One Month to Live
by Miriala
Summary: A collection of short stories being written for the month of October. Themes are anywhere from science-fiction to the wild west, passing by college and the freakin' Hotel California. Blood and gore galore, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll every now and again, with a healthy dose mental instability - because, let's be honnest, who is sane in Supernatural, anyway?
1. Androids

**Bonjour mes chers,**

 **I come to you with news. I have decided to take it upon myself, for the month of October, to write one story a day. I haven't been writing nearly as much as I would like, and enough is enough. Life is tough, but I need time to get stuff out of my head before I go insane for real.**

 **So, here be the first of thirty-one stories this month. Theme One: Androids. If you feel there's a bit of a** _ **Blade Runner**_ **undercurent, it's because I just finished watching it when I wrote this.**

 **So then, read on, chers lecteurs.**

Thy Father's Shadow

"Enter, Mr. Winchester." A deep, gravelly voice invited.

Dean entered the room and assessed the man holding the door critically. He wore a black suit with a white button-down shirt and a stripped grey tie that was done wrong, flipped up-side-down. Dark hair was askew on his head, and the bluest of eyes stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to come in. He thought about what to say when this was done to get him back home and in his bed.

"Thank you." He muttered instead as he passed, turning his gaze to the grand room before him.

Cold white stone beneath his feet, extending to the walls, lit by bright bulbs overhead. Columns grew from the ground to the ceiling on the far end of the room, giving way to an open balcony with a view of the city below. It was sparsely decorated, with only a few framed religious paintings hung on the walls, though Dean doubted the man of the place was of a religious nature. A long table was at the center, made of equally pale wood with matching chairs. There was also a wall entirely taken by shelf upon shelf of books. A physical version of a text was quite rare these days, and this man had amassed an impressive collection over the years. Dean supposed having money might have helped in acquiring some of those works.

"Impressive, isn't it?" The man said, having followed Dean's gaze.

"Yeah, it is. Can't remember the last time I saw a real book." He replied truthfully. He turned to him. "Where is Doctor Shurley?"

"He'll be here shortly. We were expecting your visit this afternoon, Mr. Winchester."

"Please, call me Dean." He said and extended a hand to the other man.

The raven tilted his head to one side, perplexed. Then, seeming to remember human customs, he gripped Dean's hand tightly and shook it.

"Very well, Dean. My name is Castiel." He said.

The green-eyed man retracted his hand and adjusted his leather jacket, an eyebrow raised. "'Angel of Thursday', 'Shield of God'." He translated. "Kind of presumptuous for a name."

"My father is somewhat religious, actually." Castiel replied as though it were to be obvious. Which it sort of was, if the paintings were not to be taken ironically.

"Who'd'a thunk it?" Dean said, heavy with the sarcasm.

"Judging by my profession, it may come as a surprise." Another voice entered the room.

Dean spun around to see a man with a full beard and neatly combed hair walk in, sharply dressed in a grey suit that somehow looked even more expensive than the one Castiel wore - and that was saying something. He had the air of someone high and mighty, but at the same time had laugh lines around his eyes, which gave him a more humble appearance.

"Doctor Shurley, the man of the hour." Dean greeted.

"Mr. Dean Winchester. A pleasure to meet you. It's not every day we are honored by the visit of a Hunter." He said warmly and extended a hand in turn, which Dean grasped politely. Shurley's skin was surprisingly cold to the touch, despite the warmth that filtered in from the balcony. "And to what business do I owe the pleasure?"

"Seeing as you are the head of Celest Corp., we were wondering if we would be able to test one of the newest model Androids before they go on the market. To screen for flaws and to adjust our interrogation system." Dean said. "Since the rebellions from the previous generation, we want to make sure we know what to look for before one goes coo-coo for cocoa-puffs."

"I understand." Shurley said with a small smile that wiled itself warm, but came out somewhat brittle. "How many would you need to test?"

"For the moment, just one will suffice." The Hunter replied. "Today's aim is to gather info before they get released for true testing, so that we're better prepared than we were last time." This time, it's Dean who's smile is tense.

"Very well, Mr. Winchester." The man nodded in direction to Castiel, who had been standing quietly by a pillar, gazing out at the city below. "Castiel. Mr. Winchester would like to ask you a few questions."

Dean's eyebrows rose, surprise written onto his features. "He- he's an Android?"

Shurley smiled. "Quite convincing, isn't he? My finest work, I might even say."

Dean was forced to concede the point to the man. Castiel was a work of art by Android standards, undistinguishable from a human at first glance. Even now, as they both moved to sit across from each other at the long table, it was impossible to tell the difference, except perhaps for the fact that he kind of looked lost when it came to interacting with people. But then again, humans also had that problem at times.

Dean took out the small camera and placed it on the table, set to zoom on Castiel's eyes, and another to the other side to catch his full-body reactions. He asked for his hand, and noticed that the skin was warm and even had a pulse. He placed the heartrate monitor on the end of his index finger and released his hand. Next, he pulled out his phone and the list of customary questions, along with the voice recording app.

"My name is Dean Winchester, special task force: Hunter. Beginning test one of generation six Celest Corp. Androids. Subject name: Castiel." Dean said into the device as way of cataloguing his case. All the while, Castiel sat motionless, if only with a little perplexed from the set on his features as Dean announced his introduction.

"Now, Castiel, I'm gonna ask you a bunch of questions, and you have answer as honestly and as fast as you can. Understand?"

"Yes." His voice was low and solemn.

"Good." Dean nodded and looked down to his screen. "Question one: what is your full name?"

"Castiel James Novak."

"Question two: You see a person getting mugged in an alley. What do you do?"

"I restrain the attacker and contact the authorities."

"You see a wasp on your arm. What do you do?"

"I take it outside and let it go."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You don't kill it?"

"No; I don't want to get stung." Castiel replied, instantly, like all other answers. Then, as an afterthought: "The wasp didn't do anything to deserve death. And we are in dire need of pollination insects in any case."

The Hunter conceded with a shrug of his shoulders. "True. Question three: There's a woman who is pretty interested in you and makes it clear enough she wants to have some sexy times with you. What do you do?"

"Politely decline."

"Really?" Dean narrowed his eyes and glanced at the monitors. Everything was normal. In previous models, the Androids usually expressed their desire to partake in such activities. Maybe this function had been removed in this generation, save for the leisure versions?

"Why?"

At this, Castiel looked away and the pulse monitor indicated a minor increase. His pupils dilated slightly.

"Because she isn't my 'type'." He said, pointedly avoiding Dean's gaze.

"I never described her." He pointed out.

"Doesn't matter."

"Then what _is_ you type, Castiel?"

Hesitation. "Tall, dark blond… Male." The raven seemed to find the bookshelves particularly interesting.

Dean stilled a moment, shocked. "Well damn." He whistled at last, an amused grin playing on his lips.

Castiel glared at him, annoyance now on his features, along with a faint pink tinge to his cheeks. "Next question?"

Dean snapped back to profesionalism. He cleared his throat. "Right. Question four: you're in a theater and someone in the front row opens fire on the other viewers. What do you do?"

"Depends where I am in the theater as oposed to the shooter."

"Same row as him, ten seats to the left."

"I try to find a way to disarm him."

"He has a hostage."

"I offer him my life for their's."

"Life?" Dean's prompted.

"I am a sentient being made of organic matter. Just because I know who my creator is doesn't lessen the value of my life." Castiel replied instantly, a slight frown upon his features, as though he was offended by the question.

To this, Dean was quiet for a beat. And another. And the next. He looked at Castiel across him, trying desperately to find something to retort to that, to say that he his nothing but a machine, but he couldn't find anything.

"I know what you're thinking, Dean." The raven said at last. "I am only a program, made to mimic human behavior, made to belive that I have original thoughts. But the truth is that, just like you, I bleed, my heart beats, my lungs breathe, and I will die, someday."

The monitors that were set up earlier were now long forgotten. "But you're mechanical-" he started.

"The only mechanical things in me," Castiel cut off. "Are my skeleton and nervous system. The rest is flesh. Even my brain is organic, save for the chip I had in my early days, as I did not have the time humans did to learn normally. I was born in this form from the beginning, and never had the chance to grow up as you did. The chip is no longer there, Dean. I am up to date and fully independent."

"Then why do you stay here with Doctor Shurley?" The Hunter retorted. "You say you're supposedly free. So, be free."

"Loyalty to one's father can be strong, Dean. It would take a lot to break such a bond."

The Hunter looked down at the table, maping the grain of the wood beneath his hands. "That, I know."

X

Dean shrugged out of his coat and kicked off his muddy boots by the door. He looked back and locked it, making sure the deadbolt was well in place. From the table, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey that sat there, already half-empty, foregoing to take a glass on his way to the couch. He let himself fall onto the seat with a deep sigh of comfort and took a swig of alcohol, relishing the burn on its way down.

He plucked his phone from his pocket and threw the interview with Castiel onto the large TV screen. It was sectioned into four, one for each monitor: full-body view, pulse, eyes, and from Dean's point of view. He replayed the footage, noting here and there what was noteworthy, occasionnally taking a mouthfull of whiskey to steady his nerves. This was far from the first time he screened an Android, but it was certainly the most disturbing he had worked on.

" _Then what_ is _your type, Castiel?"_

" _Tall, dark blond… Male."_

Dean snorted a laugh and drank. Finally, a gay Android. About time they caught up with the world.

The footage continued on to the rest of the interview.

" _Then why do you stay here with Doctor Shurley? You're supposedly free. So, be free."_

" _Loyalty to one's father can be strong. It would take a lot to break such a bond."_

He looked at the other monitors: minor change in pulse, slight dilation of the pupils, sudden rigid posture. Dean narrowed his eyes at the screen, leaning forward in his seat.

" _That, I know."_

Another spike in pulse, sudden shifting in his chair, small twich of his hands.

A lie.

The Hunter jumped and nearly knocked the bottle by his feet over when he heard a knock at his door. I got to his feet and pulled his gun out from the holster on his hip. He held it down and made his way through his appartment and to the door.

Another knock.

He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, and he held his breath, being a silent ghost over the floor as he finally reached the door. He looked through the peephole. He let out his breath in a big rush and sagged against the wood, relief coursing through him.

Tucking his gun back into the holster, he opened the door. A kid about fourteen years old stood there, soaked to his bones from walking out in the rain, a small projection of a brochure in hand. "Excuse me, sir. Would you have a moment to spare for our Lord-"

"Kid, stop." Dean cut. "Get out of here. God left the building a long time ago, and he ain't coming back any time soon."

"But-" the boy tried again.

"No, scram." He snapped and slammed the door closed, locking it back up.

The Hunter went back to the couch, only to find it occupied. Instantly his gun was back in is hands, ready to shoot.

"That was rude of you." The voice was low and scratchy. "He only wanted-"

"The fuck are you doing in my house?!" Dean growled. "How did you get in?"

"The deadbolt on your door doesn't lock very well from the outside. You should consider getting a new one." He answered honestly, not the least bit unnerved that there was a gun pointed at his head.

"No shit, Sherlock." He snapped.

The raven frowned and tilted his head. "My name is Castiel, not Sherlock."

"What are you doing here?"

"Being free." He looked confused by the line of questioning.

"You know, when I said that, I didn't mean for you to run away."

"Then what did you mean, then?"

Dean stopped, at a loss. What _did_ he mean when he said that? "Standard question for screening." He quickly covered.

Castiel got to his feet, remenant rain dripping from his trenchcoat onto the floor. "And what is the standard answer?" he asked.

"'I am not programmed for freedom.'"

"I am not programmed at all."

"Bullshit."

"Why would I lie?"

"Because I have a gun pointed at your head?"

"If you were to shoot me, and I was programmed, I could just be restored afterwards." He said and took a step forward. "Want to try it? Despite all Doctor Shurley told you about my creation?"

"Stop." Dean grit out between his teeth.

He took another step forward. "I bleed just like you, Dean. Look." He lifted his left arm slowly and pulled back the coat to reveal a long red line, partialy dried blood sealing it. "I caught myself on the nail sticking out from the balcony outside, here."

Dean felt his hands falter at the sight. "Stop." He voice cracked.

Castiel took another step forward. "Please, Dean. I need your help." Desperation was clear in his eyes.

"For what?"

The raven's head was now inches from the end of the gun. "I want to live, I want to be free. Chuck Shurley is a god amongst men, and just as you were slaves to your Father, I am to mine. Except mine hasn't yet 'left the building', as you said. And if I return now, I'm afraid he'll 'decommission' me permanently."

"So what," Dean deadpanned. "You want to kill Shurley?"

"No!" the raven cried. "No, I just want to be… out of his reach. To live in the light of the sun, and not in his shadow." He looked him in the eyes, and the Hunter thought he had never seen anything so blue. "Surely you understand?"

"I-" Dean faltered and his arms slowly dropped. He was paid to stop serious design flaws in Androids before they got out of hand, like the mutiny the previous generation caused. It was the job description of a Hunter to decommission faulty equipen that goes roguet. And an Android rebelling against its creator was a major flaw. But Castiel wasn't just some walking-talking lump of plastic. He was…

"God dammit, fine." He swore at last. "I'll help." He replaced his weapon at his hip.

Relief visibly coursed through Castiel. His shoulders sagged and his head fell downwards with a long sigh. "Thank you." He breathed out.

"I'll arrange for a a ship off-world to the colonies soon. Is that gonna be far enough for you?" he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"I believe it should, yes." He answered, honest and serious. Dean rolled his eyes.

He moved to pass Castiel and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the bottom of the couch behind him. He took a long pull, the liquid like fire down his throat, then offered it to the other. The raven only eyed the bottle uncertainly.

"Whiskey?" he said. "Ever heard of it while you were 'learning'?"

"Yes."

"Then you know what it does, right?" he promted, swishing the amber liquid around.

"Yes, I do."

Then it dawned on the Hunter. "You haven't ever tried it before."

A light shade of pink crawled up Castiel's neck as he looked away. "There are many things I haven't tried."

Dean smirked, his mind supplying many things for the raven to 'learn'. "That so?" Silence. Embarassment. "Then let's start with the booze."

He moved past Castiel and grabbed two tumblers from the kitchen cabinet, set them down on the table. He waved Castiel over, offered to take his coat and hung it up on the hook by the door, and sat down across from him.

"Let's get ya educated properly, huh?"

X

A few hours and three bottles later, a very drunk Dean had been carried over to his bed by a slightly tipsy Castiel – bio-engineered dick could really hold his alcohol – while the raven opted to sleep on the couch. When the Hunter woke up, still drunk, in the small hours of the morning, it was to a sound he hadn't heard in years.

He sat up, foggy from alcohol and lack of sleep, the noise gently drifting from is livingroom into his bedroom. With a steadying hand against the wall, he rose to his feet and out to the rest of the flat. He passed a hand through his hair, mussing it up even more than it already was. He came to rest at the frame of the livingroom, his shoulder leaning on the wall.

The sky had cleared up from the rain, now it cast pale moonlight through the window to illuminate the room soflty. Notes flitted through the air from his mother's vertical piano. Castiel was seated before it, a shadow of a figure traced silver in the moon, hauched over the keys as he played. Before long, he began to quietly sing the lyrics under his breath.

" _Lapsistain rakkain tää näyttämö on, mis kuutamo kujillaan kulkee…_ "

Dean stood there, listening, while his mind cleared up from the haze of alcohol, to the low tones of Castiel's singing. The music seeped into his heart and woke up memories he had tried long to drown when he was younger and still raw.

" _Tääl tarinain lähtellä asua saan mis, viulu valtavan kahion, ikisäveltään maalaa, laulullan herättää maan …_ "

The notes drifted off into the night as the song came to close, and for a moment, silence stood between them as none bothered to move.

"Didn't take you for a signer." Dean eventually said.

Castiel just turned to to look out the window, not the least bit surprised to find Dean lurking in the shadows. "Music was the second thing I learned when I was brought into existence. Language was first."

"So you know Finnish?"

"Yes."

Dean walked to the window and leaned against the frame there, watching the city fifty storeys below, buslting with life even in the wee hours of the morning when all should be quiet. He couldn't remember a time when it ever was.

"My mother used to sing us that song, when we were young. She never told us what it meant." He said.

"'We'?"

"Me and Sam, my brother. He's on a colony off-world as an engineer." He explained simply.

"And your mother?" the raven asked.

He closed his eyes and breathed. When he opened them, he felt a sharp sting at the corners. "Everything dies eventually, Cas."

He remained silent a moment, contemplating the sky far above. " _I get to live here where the story begins, where a violin echoes the eternal melody of immense longing._ "

The Hunter turned his gaze sharply to the other. "What?"

"It's a line in the song."

"Oh."

Silence again.

"Would you like to learn?"

"What?"

"I could teach you to play, if you like."

Dean stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Castiel sat unflinching beneath his gaze, and then moved over so that there was space for another person next to him. Somewhat reluctantly, he sat down next to the raven, and Castiel's face lit up with a small, but warm smile.

"I'll play the right hand, you play the left." He said.

He placed his hands above the keys, and Dean watched as his dextrous fingers glided over the notes. When he was done the first line, he stopped and removed his left hand. "Did you get that?" he asked.

He looked at the other an expectantly, but Dean was lost in his eyes, illuminated silver in the moonlight. He tried to remind himself that Castiel was not human, but right now, those were the most human and lively eyes he had ever seen. Castiel tilted his head to one side when Dean remained silent, his face curious and a little concerned.

"Dean, are you okay?"

He reached a hand and trailed it up the length of the raven's arm that was braced against the bench for support when he had twister to face Dean. He felt the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his dress-shirt, his overcoat long abandonned when they started drinking. His hand rose to cradle the side of Castiel's face, the fingers just beneath his jaw picking up his pulse. His accelerated heartbeat. Castiel hitched a breath, and Dean's eyes fell to his lips. Warm, soft-looking, inviting. Alive. The raven's gaze mirrored his own, and heat flushed up his neck. He looked away.

"You've never kissed someone before." It came out as no more than a whisper, but in the silence, he may as well have shouted it from the rooftops. " _Tall, dark blond… Male."_ The words played in his head.

"… That hadn't been part of my education, no." The raven admitted at last.

"Then let me teach you."

Slowly, he leaned towards him, his head tilted and hand still on his cheek. He looked at Castiel, who gazed back, unsure and heart hammering in his chest and beneath Dean's fingers at his neck, but he leaned in nonetheless, albeit hesistantly. When they were no more than an inch away, breathing the same air, Castiel in nervous and staggered intakes, Dean slow and steady, he held still a beat, unsure. Then, he pressed the rest of the way and gently lay his lips on Castiel's, eyes closed.

For a moment, neither moved. Then Dean pulled back and opened his eyes to see the raven's still shut tight, his brow scrunched as though he was trying to process the feeling. Dean huffed a small laugh and his blue gaze snapped to his in an instant.

"What?" he growled, his cheeks red.

"Nothing." Dean shook his head. He still felt his warmth on his lips, and he craved it again.

Castiel glared at him and then looked away. He breathed deeply, looking down at the piano, and then back up to the Hunter. "Can we try that again?"

Dean smirked and happily obliged.

X

A week later, the pair found themselves of the colony planet Earth C-426. They had succesfully evaded the multiple attempts at capturing Castiel and arresting Dean, a few near-death encouters that still kept Dean awake at night sometimes, years after the events. Word eventually came that Celest Corp. had been shut down for human rights violations, mainly Castiel's creation. There was the whole story of the previous generation Androids' rebellions, as well.

For a few months after their escape, Dean and Castiel lived on the streets, occasionally visiting homeless shelters and squatting in abandonned buildings when they could. Once the hype of the missing Hunter and Android had passed, they deemed it safe to contact Sam, who lived in the same colony. From then on, they made themselves dissapear completely from who they were on Earth, and started anew on C-426 with Sam's help.

Dean now worked in a small mechanic shop on the outskirts of town – even in this day and age, vehicles always needed repairing – and Castiel was a kindergarten teacher. He had proved a remarkable teacher and had away with kids that Dean would never understand. They owned a small house on the countryside, away from the busy city life. It reminded Dean a little of the house they lived in before their mother died so many years ago. He had never felt such peace before.

Years later, after they had finaly settled, Castiel decided he definetly liked kissing – and all other activities derived from that – and Dean at last learned to play the piano.

 **There we go, peoples. Part one of thirty-one done. Not beta-ed, by the way, so all mistakes be me own.**

 **You know the song that makes us writers dance, so sing it, why don't ye?**

 **-Miri.**


	2. Horror Movie

**Hello,**

 **As I said, second story of the month, albeit two hours late. In this one, they are eighteen years old and the Winchester parents are gone for two weeks on a trip without the kids, leaving Dean, Sam and Castiel the house for themselves. And who loves themselves a good horror movie in a near empty house, alone with just two friends?**

 **Anyway, I guess I should warn about minor drug use in this one? Just marijuana, cuz the boys know how to chill in moderation.**

 **If that'll be all, read on, chers lecteurs.**

No Rest for the Wicked

"Pick something out, Cas!" Dean yelled from the kitchen. "Don't let Sammy choose!"

"Hey!" Sam cried, indignant.

"Your movies suck, Sam!"

"They don't, actually." Castiel cut in, voice lowered so that only Sam could hear.

"Dean wants a horror movie. Any recommendations?"

The younger Winchester looked thoughtful a moment. "You ever seen _Paranormal Activity_?"

"No, I haven't. I don't usually tend to watch horror movies." He replied.

A grin split Sam's face. "Good," he drawled in a way that made Castiel warry of him. "I'll put the first one on."

Minutes later, Dean returned with a mountain of snacks in his arms an Sam set up the TV. Once they were all settled, they Dean hit play – and immediately complained that the movie sucked.

"We've seen this one before, Sammy."

"Cas hasn't."

"You haven't?" Dean turned to him, shocked.

Castiel shook his head. "Horror movies aren't really my thing, Dean. You know that."

Dean's grin matched his brother's earlier, except this time it was almost malicious. The raven groaned an 'oh fuck' and then snapped at him to shut up and pass the popcorn.

The movie started, and Castiel found himself profoundly annoyed by the camera format. If anything, it almost made him dizzy, but he withheld any comments in favor of trying to understand the story. By the time freaky noises started, the bowl of popcorn in his lap sat long forgotten. He was vaguely aware of the looks the brothers tossed him from time to time, aware of their amused little shit-eating grins, but he paid them no mind.

A sharp noise made Castiel jump in his seat, and immediately cackles of laughter followed. He glared at the pair and told them to shut the fuck up. They stifled their laughs and continued watching the movie.

There was a reason Castiel didn't like horror movies, and it lay mostly in the cheap scares that made up most movies. There was also the fact that a lot of the stuff was related to demons and the supernatural in general, which, as a somewhat religious person, didn't sit well with him. He knew that rationally, none of it was possible, but the doubt always lingered in his mind. And it was something for which Dean never missed an opportunity to poke some fun at.

By the time they got to the part where the woman stands beside her husband all night, the raven was on the edge of his seat. He was hunched over his knees, huddled into himself, intent on the screen, the two other spectators beside him also forgotten. He held his breath as he waited for something – _anything –_ to happen on-screen, muscles tense.

 _Slam!_

Castiel jumped from his seat and fell onto the floor inelegantly. He snapped right back up and hit Dean's arm hard. He and Sam were rolling on the couch, laughing hysterically and clutching their stomachs. The raven shoved Dean back into his place and sat down, his heart hammering and fighting the urge to grin at his own reaction.

"Dean Winchester, you fucking dick." He bit out.

"Aww man," he chuckled and wiped one eye with the back of his hand. "That was fucking priceless!"

"I swear to God I will fucking end you." Castiel growled, not meaning a single word.

"Come on, Cas." Sam tried to look solemn, but failed and tried again. "Thou shouldn't take thy Lord's name in vain."

"You're just as bad, Sam Winchester." He pointed an accusatory finger in the younger brother's direction, which only ignited more giggles, and this time he joined in.

When they finally got to the end of the movie, Castiel had jumped more times than he cared to admit. When the credits rolled at last, Dean had to extract himself from his friend's death-grip, which left the raven feeling quite vulnerable in the dim glow of the darkened screen. Sam had managed to fall asleep a little more than halfway through the movie, so he bid goodnight when Dean roused him and went upstairs to his room.

With Sam gone, and Dean in the kitchen putting food away, Castiel felt very alone, in the dark. With wary glances to the empty rooms adjacent to this one, he made his way to Dean, and, more importantly, to the light.

The elder Winchester turned from the fridge with a grin plastered on his face. "What's a matter, Cas? Scared of the dark?"

"Shut up, Dean." The raven pulled one of Sam's signature bitchfaces at his dick of a friend.

His look softened. "Come on, man. That was good."

"I dare to disagree."

"We'll have to watch those more often."

"No, we won't."

Dean walked up to him and pulled a small plastic container the size of a cigarette carton from his pocket. He opened the bag it was in and the scent hit him immediately. "You wanna relax a bit before going to bed?"

Castiel watched as he pulled out a joint before sealing the bad back up. "You owe me that much." He grumbled half-heartedly.

The blond winked at him and pulled out a lighter. "Come on out, buddy. Let's smoke-a the weed and get-a the high."

He frowned as he followed his friend out to the balcony out back. "Die Antwoord?"

Dean closed the sliding door behind him and turned a look of shock and pride on the raven. "I dare say, Cas, I taught you well."

"I don't have a choice to learn, when half of what comes out of your mouth is a reference to something or other."

"True." He smirked.

They lit up the joint and passed the next five minutes puffing and passing, looking at the stars above. Once done, they entered the house again and Dean went to the bathroom to flush the stub down the toilet. Castiel took his seat on the couch, wound up laying sideways on its length as the marijuana kicked in. Dean came back, spent a minute looking at Castiel on the couch, as though trying to get him to move out of the way telepathically. When he showed to intention of shifting over for him, the elder brother just plopped down over and across him. Castiel didn't mind.

They watched videos on YouTube, laughing themselves stupid over one another's comments until their ribs hurt. The raven felt himself calm down from the rush of the horror movie and kinda just melted into the couch and into Dean – who had thankfully arranged himself more comfortably, but was still kind of half on top of him. At some point, he dozed off in his spot to a dude miserably failing a skateboard trick and to his friend's soft laugh.

He woke later to darkness. The weight on him that he'd fell asleep with was no longer there, replaced by his favorite blanket that the Winchesters kept for him. He shifted to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes with a sigh.

 _Tick._

His eyes snapped open. He frantically glanced around himself without moving. He held his breath, waiting to hear anything else.

 _Tick._

He sat up, pressed himself flat into the back of the couch. He could see nothing in the dim light of the night.

"Dean." He hissed under his breath.

Nothing.

He breathed deeply. Nothing. There was nothing. This was a relatively old house, so it was normal for there to be creaks and cracks in the middle of the night. He reasoned with himself and lay back down, tucking the blanket under his chin to fight the chills he was feeling. This was ridiculous. He was eighteen years old, and one stupid horror movie awakened fears that he had thought long ago conquered.

He closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep.

 _Clang!_

In an instant he was back up and up the stairs to Dean's room. He hovered at the door a moment, trying to get his breathing under control. Then he cracked it open and silently stepped through to his friend's bedside. He gently shook the blond awake, who groaned and tried to swat his hands away.

"Dean, wake up!" he hissed. "Seriously!"

"What d'you want, Cas?" Dean grumbled.

"I heard something!"

"It's nothing." He turned his back to the raven.

"God dammit, Dean! For real!"

"For fuck's sake, fine." He growled at last and sat up.

He pulled on a T-shirt, but neglected to put anything on over his briefs. He grabbed the baseball bat from behind his door and waited for Castiel to follow him out the room. He lit every light switch they passed behind the blond, clearing room after room on the first floor, careful not to wake Sam when they passed his.

They went down the stairs and did the same, and came up empty. The loud clang Castiel had heard was only a pan that had fallen from the clean dish pile they had washed after dinner. He almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous he was being. He turned to Dean, who was groggy and scratching the back of his neck with a yawn, ready to apologize.

 _Tock._

This time both teens froze. The raven looked to his friend to make sure he wasn't the one imagining things this time, and he nodded that he had heard it too. He made a move with his hand, and Castiel obeyed by grabbing the offensive pan from earlier and followed Dean out of the kitchen and back into the living room.

 _Scratch, scratch._

They followed the sound to the door of the basement. It was the only place they hadn't cleared – the perfect place for any number of horrific scenarios. Castiel felt the cold fingers of fear grip the base of his spine, but he pushed the sensation down. Dean opened the door with a sinister creak and flicked the light on. In vain, of course.

"Fuck." Dean hissed under his breath.

The raven grabbed his shoulder and pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight. Dean nodded and led the way down, Castiel behind him and illuminating the way. The stairs to the basement creaked with their every step, making them cringe as they tried desperately to keep quiet.

The place was littered with old furniture, collecting dust, along with a near endless supply of various knick-knacks just laying around, waiting to fall or to be stepped on. Dean and Castiel navigated the narrow paths amongst the debris, checking thoroughly each corner that could potentially hide an intruder.

They cleared the basement at last, and Castiel felt his body almost give out with relief at not having found anything. He turned to Dean in the dim light of his phone.

"I'm sorry, Dean I just-"

"It's fine, Cas." The blond laughed. "Who _doesn't_ want to be in their basement hunting rats in their boxers with a baseball bat and a frying pan?"

"In the middle of the night, no less." Castiel added, feeling a stupid grin pull at his lips.

"Adventure of a lifetime-"

A loud crash promptly cut him off. They both snapped to attention, makeshift weapons raised and light pointed in the direction of the sound. Dean led the way once again, to where he thought the sound originated, all the way to where a glass jar had shattered on the ground and scattered its contents of old buttons all over the cement floor. The blond hissed as a shard of glass stabbed his foot, while Castiel stood guard and tried to locate the source that sent the jar flying in the first place. When he found nothing, he bent down and let Dean lean on him while he hobbled on one foot to extract the glass form his foot.

A sudden chill raked its cold fingers down his spine, and the raven froze, held his breath. Dean continued picking, oblivious to his friend's sudden change in demeanor, coming up triumphant with a shard of glass no bigger than a sewing needle between his thumb and index. He glared at the offending piece of shard and then at Castiel, who could only stare past his head.

The wall behind them seemed to be moving, rippling like dark water. Dean blinked and then looked back when he saw his friend's distant horrified expression. The darkness flowed and churned, gradually giving shape to something vaguely humanoid. The shape reached a liquid arm out to them, what could be made out of the face seeming to contort in pain at the movement, like it was physically crawling out of the wall.

Castiel grabbed Dean's arm and took a big step back, out of the creature's reach. He felt a small stab of pain in his foot, but he paid it no mind.

"What in the fuck is that…?" Dean breathed.

"Don't know. We have to get Sam and get out _now_." Castiel barked.

"Oh fuck, Sammy!"

The pair took off for the stairs as fast as they could through the junk that littered the basement. Just as Castiel reached the last step, the door slammed closed, almost breaking his fingers off in the process. He threw all his weight against the door, to no avail. It would be easier to punch through a brick wall than to break a wooden door.

He looked back, pointing the light over Dean's head, and saw one sinister, clawed hand reach for him.

"Dean!" he screeched and grabbed for his arm.

He threw the frying pan at the creature, but it simply went right through it like a cloud of smoke and clattered to the ground behind them. He pulled at Dean with all his strength, but it seemed the thing was stronger. He felt the blond slip from his grasp and beyond the reach of the light. By the time Castiel was back on his feet, both were gone to only God knows where.

The only thing he thought to do then was run back to the stairs and slam into the door. It gave way easily this time, and he near landed on his face. He scrambled to his feet and ran upstairs to Sam's room, panic clutching his chest and making it hard to breath. He burst through, jolting the younger Winchester awake.

"Cas, what-"

"It took Dean!" he shouted and grabbed at his hair, tugging painfully.

Sam jumped to his feet and pried Castiel's hands from his head. He held them firmly and looked him in the eye, deadly serious.

"What happened."

"I- he- Dean-" the raven was unnable to just settle on one word, too many thoughts were rushing throuhg his mind, he couldn't pick one and explain it through.

"I what?" A groggy voice sounded from the door behind him.

He whirled around and threw a protective arm before Sam. Dean was standing there, the same way Castiel had last seen him a minute ago, save for the terror in his eyes whe he was dragged away. He looked like he'd just woken up from a long nap.

"Stay back, Sam."

"Cas, you're crazy-" the youth began.

"I said stay back!" he snapped, his tone leaving no room for objection.

"Sam…? What's going on…?" the blond asked, glancing cautiously between the two.

"I saw that thing. It dragged you down. How are you here?"

"What thing, Cas?"

"In the basement."

"Dude, I just woke up." He yawned. "Maybe you shouldn't have smoked weed after a horror movie."

"You what?" Sam pipped up.

"Shut up, Sam." Castiel barked. "Time for that later." He instinctively moved a hand to the small copper cross that hung under his shirt at all times.

Dean's gaze followed the movement and something on his face changed infinitesimally – and it did not escape Castiel's notice. He narrowed his eyes and yanked the chain from his neck, holding it outstretched at arm's length towards the elder Winchester.

"You're not Dean."

"What are you talking about? Of course-"

" _Christo_."

Flinch.

"What?"

He took a step forwards, cross still before him. "Get out." He ordered, his voice low, threatning.

"Cas, you're crazy. Stop this." Dean answered, tone equally hard.

"Please, Cas." Sam tried.

"Stay out of this, Sam!" he snapped, turning his head slightly, but never leaving Dean from sight. "Show yourself, coward!"

"Stop!"

"Get out!"

"I don't wanna do this to you-"

"Can we just-"

" _Christo!_ " he barked again, and this time Dean recoiled back as though Castiel had punched him. When he found steady footing again, he looked back to the raven and Sam. The sight churned his stomach.

The elder brother's eyes were black as night, the dim light from the lamps outside glinting like lost stars in a sea of darkness. His lips were twisted in a smile that almost looked painful, his whole body having changed to menacing, predatory.

"You found me, little angel." His voice was contorted nearly beyond reconition, low and slithering. "What are you gonna do now?"

Castiel could only stand there, frozen in a mix of shock and terror. The demon straightened up and flicked a wrist behind the raven. He heard Sam gasp, followed by a heavy thunk against the wall, and it laughed. It twisted its fingers, curling closed slowly, and Sam struggled against the force, kicking into the wall and grasping feebly at his neck.

"Why are you here?" Castiel said at last. His voice was no more than a whisper.

The demon turned it's beady eyes to him, and snarled a laugh. "I can smell weakness, Casteel. And this boy is just so full of it."

Castiel frowned, finding it deep within himself to take offence to someone massacring his name, but also to the allusion that Dean was weak. "He isn't."

"Funny, that. How am I in here, then?"

Castiel glared at the thing, clutching his cross tighly in in palm until he felt the metal carve into his flesh. "Dean!" he yelled. "Fight it!"

It laughed again, and that seemed to distract it enough to slacken its grip on Sam. "Exorcism – Cas!" he croaked.

"Shut up, you fucking rat!" the demon screeched and threw the youth across the room and into his bookshelf, which clattered to the ground on top of him. He walked slowly towards him, with all the grace of a snake ready to strike.

The cross in his hand was now painfully digging into his palm. He looked up to the scene unfolding before him, Dean lifting up Sam by his neck, this time with his actual hand. In a flash, every moment his father spent teaching him Latin and about the evils of the world, passed behind his eyes.

" _Exorcizamus te._ " He breathed.

The demon froze and then dropped the younger Winchester to crumple on the ground, gasping. It turned it's black gaze onto Castiel. The smile was gone.

"What was that?" It asked, almost like it was giving the raven a chance to take back what he said.

To the contrary, he squared his shoulders and brought the cross up between them, now bloody and dripping from holding it so tight. " _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…_ " his voice shook, but he didn't care.

Dean caughed a little, and a whisp of black smoke came out. "Don't you fucking dare, you enochian fuck." He growled and took a step to Castiel.

" _Omnis satanica protesta, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…_ " he took a steadying breath as the demon inched closer. " _Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et sect diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te…_ "

"Listen kid," it tried. "Stop this now and-" it caughed again and smoke trickled from Dean's lips. "-and I'll give you anything you want just don't-"

" _Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae perditonis venenum propinare!_ " he shouted, effectively silencing the creature.

It fell to its knees before Castiel. He stood over it like a tower as the thing's pleading and venemous words tumbled from its lips and onto his deaf ears. He recited the exorcism as fast as he could without tripping over the words, wanting nothing but to end this ordeal.

" _Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humilare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine!_ "

It was now crawling on all fours towards the raven, the blood from his palm dripping onto Dean's upturned face. Castiel reached down and spread the red liquid into a pentagram on his skin.

" _Quem inferi tremunt… Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine!_ "

He was shouting now, commanding with everything within himself for the demon to begone. His voice was hoarse and he felt winded, like he was fighting this battle with more than mere words. He reached down and grabbed Dean's left shoulder with the hand that held the cross.

" _Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate sevire-_ "

The metal of the cross heated under his palm until it felt like with whole hand was on fire. The demon howled in pain as smoke seeped from the blond's mouth to pool around their feet.

" _-te rogamus-_ "

Dean's eyes began to fade back to their normal green and he choked as the demon desperately tried to remain in him. Castiel held no mercy.

" _-audi nos!_ "

The last words seemed to purge the remains of the demon from Dean. The smoke swirled and burned an uneaven and unholy circle into the hardwood of the floor. The elder Winchester collapsed backwards on the floor, and so did Castiel, narrowly avoiding falling onto his friend. The last thing he heard before lights out was Sam's weakened voice coming to them.

The last thing he thought before passing out was a very simple, but all too evident:

 _Holy fuck._

X

"Hey there, buddy. How're you feeling?"

He knew that voice better than anything, save his own mother's and father's.

"Like shit."

A ight chuckle. "Come on dude. Wake up, Cas."

"Fuck off, Dean." He grumbled and turned away from the source of the voice. He felt so tired he could sleep for ten days and it still wouldn't be enough.

"Cas, please?"

He sighed deeply and cracked an eye open. He was on the couch again, blanket tucked under his chin. "What."

"It lives!" Sam exclaimed, a little beside Dean. He had dark bruises around his throat and his voice was wrecked.

"Oh shit, Sam-" Castiel tried to rise but was forced back down by a wave of nausia.

"Take it easy, Cas." Dean placed a hand on his shoulder and held him there.

"What-" his voice cracked. He swallowed down the urge to hurl. "What happened?" he finally croaked.

"Apparently, I was possesed by a demon and you beat the shit out of it to get it out of me." Dean explained simply. "You gave me a pretty cool scar, too." He lifted the left sleeve of his shirt to reveal a burn the shape of Castiel's hand.

His right hand echoed with an empathetic wave of heat and the raven winced. He lifted it out of the blanket, and noted that even though the print was of his full hand, only the shape of his cross was left as a mark in his palm. It was paritally scarred over with a scab from where he gripped it too tight.

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly, buddy." Dean huffed and pulled his sleeve back down.

"Hey Cas," Sam pipped up after a moment of silence.

"Hm?" he felt his eyes close again.

"Why did the demon call you 'angel' and an… an'enochian fuck'?" he finaly said, and the raven could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

"My name means 'Angel of Thursday'," he explained with a yawn. "Enochian is the language of the Angels…"

The last thing his brain registered before sutting off was a small huff from Sam.

"Huh."

 **There ye have it, mate.**

 **-Miri.**


	3. War

**Bonjour, bonjour.**

 **Here be the third story of the month. Theme: War. To be honnest, I didn't really know what to do, so I just wrote something down, and the rest flowed in. I think the orignal idea was to make it about a WW2 school assingment, but it kinda turned into a mini war between Dean and Cas? Yeah, I don't know. I ain't good with emotional shit, yet here is this…** _ **thing**_ **.**

 **I wanted them to be somewhere cold in the fall, so I guess this is set in Vermont. I doubt that it gets very cold in the winter in Kansas, and quick Google search didn't say anywhere that snow was possible over there. Of course, if you live there, and I'm wrong, feel free to tell me.**

 **I guess some warnings apply for this one? Mention of underage drinking, mention of drug use (again, nothing big), offenssive language, mocking of religion, one instance of homosexual slurrs? I think that's about it.**

 **Anyhoot, lisez, mes chers.**

Might as Well Call me Richard

"Alright class," the teacher said from the head of the classroom. "Time to make the teams for the midterm project."

A student raised her hand. "Can we chose our teams, Mr. Crowley?"

The teacher smiled coldly. "Of course not. Where would be the fun in that?"

Dean groaned theatrically in his seat at the back of the class. Crowley's eyes snapped to him. "Is there a problem, Mr. Winchester?"

He sat straight under his attention, feigning remorse as he replied. "Nothing at all, sir."

"Thought so." He said and returned his attention to the rest of the students. "Now, I have the teams already made on this list, along with the subject you'll have to present. And pay attention when I say your names, because I won't say it twice."

Dean deflated in his chair. He hated history class with a passion, and Crowley certainly didn't make any effort to make it interesting. He listened half-heartedly as names were called and themes distributed, waiting for his turn.

"Squirrel!" the teacher barked. "You'll be with Feathers. Your theme: the place of religion during the Second World War."

"What?" he cried. "Why that? Why with _him_?"

"Because fate would have it so." Crowley replied, gruff tone dripping with sarcasm. He moved on to the next poor souls to be called out.

"More like the fucking devil." Dean grumbled under his breath. The look Crowley gave him was withering, as though he'd heard him through the chaos of talking students, and the teen quickly averted his eyes.

Once the assignments were handed out with an teams announced, the class had the rest of the period to start working on their project. Dean slouched back into his seat far enough to touch the wall behind him, on only the two back legs of his chair, and looked to the ceiling.

"You're not going to find God like that."

Dean glanced at the source of the gravelly voice and found the other teen standing there, looking just as annoyed as him at being forced to work together. He carried his pencil case and notebook loosely leaning on one hip and pushed his thick-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose. The blond eyed him critically, taking in the way he dressed lazily with probably whatever was closest and clean when he woke up – a loose long-sleeved grey sweater and a pair of washed out jeans – the way he probably didn't even touch his hair since he got out of bed with the accompanying scruff on his jaw, and the increasingly irritated blue eyes that stared him down.

The teen dropped back down on his chair's four legs. "Then tell me, ô wise one," he mocked. "Where _will_ I find God?"

The raven scowled and grabbed a nearby chair to sit on, throwing his stuff on Dean's desk loudly. "Nowhere with Crowley around, that's for sure."

"Amen to that." He huffed.

For a long, painful moment, they were silent as they tried to figure out how to go about this without 'accidentally' killing each other in the process. Dean flipped through his mostly empty notebook while Castiel opened the class book to the section about World War II. He sighed and leaned on his hand, absently doodling on a corner of a page in his notes. Castiel flipped a page and scribbled something down. Dean drummed the end of his pencil on the desk, tapping out the beat to a Zep song. The raven turned another page and shifted in his seat. He leaned back and started humming to the song, and that's when Castiel turned to him at last.

"Are you done?" he snapped.

"I ain't even started yet, hun." Dean drawled.

The other student sighed and took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Listen, I want to get a good grade on this and actually pass my senior year." He started, still not looking at the blond. "I know you don't care about school, but please. After this, you never have to talk to me again." He turned his blue eyes to his partner.

Dean remembered the first time he'd seen those eyes, and he cursed the moment he let himself be caught in them. "I didn't intend to."

"Good." Castiel said and put his glasses back on. "Now, can we get to work?"

With a dramatic sigh, worthy of every pathetic chick-flick he had begrudgingly seen, Dean heaved himself into a semi-proper sitting position and opened his own guide book. "Fine." He said dryly.

" _Thank_ you." Came the sassy reply under his breath and a roll of his eyes.

Dean scowled. "Fuck you."

"Already did that, remember?" the raven mumbled, perfectly innocent, looking up at him over the rim of his glasses.

Dean felt something snap inside. He got to his feet, sending the chair clattering behind him in a shrill slide. "That's it. I'm going to see Crowley and changing team."

"Good luck!" Castiel called as he walked to the teacher's desk.

Moments later, the blond teen came crashing back down into his seat, irritation seeping into the air around him.

"How did it go?" he asked without looking up.

"Shut up."

"I told you."

"Yeah, you told me, alright." He was being petulant, but he couldn't help it. Castiel just had a way of getting on his nerves that no one else could. "Just like you told your mother about the alcohol _we_ had been drinking five months ago. Do you know how much shit that stirred up at my place?" he hissed through his teeth.

Castiel looked up calmly. "You've told me many times. And I'm sure you remember that I didn't have much of a choice, since she was either going to find out about the booze or the weed. Besides, you broke my phone that night, too."

"I'm terribly sorry, princess, but it was either that or your parents finding out about us." He said in a harsh whisper, all too aware of the people working around them.

"You could have just erased the pictures, you idiot!" Castiel snapped quietly, finally having been agitated by the conversation. "You know how many things I lost because of you?!"

"I panicked!"

"Just like you always do!"

"I do not-"

"What about the time-"

"Boys!" Crowley's voice echoed through the small room, effectively stopping Castiel from finishing his sentence. "Is there trouble in Paradise?"

"Yes, actually." The raven said, turning in his seat to face the teacher. "I can't work with him."

Crowley simply glared at them. "I don't care what squabbles you have outside of my class, but in here, you suck it up and do the work demanded of you."

"Can't do it." Dean said stubbornly and Castiel shook his head.

"Then maybe you can both go talk it out with Principal Singer."

Oh fuck. "No I mean- I'll do the work, just-" Dean tried.

"There is no rest for the wicked, Dean." He flashed the pair a rictus of sadistic amusement. "Now get out."

"God dammit." The raven grumbled as he gathered his things.

"Do not take thy Lord's name in vain, Feathers"

"Shut up, Dean."

"Can't do that, hun."

"Stop calling me that."

"Fine, sweetheart."

Once they made it out the classroom and the door closed behind them, Castiel reared on the other teen and backed him against the wall. Dean felt the familiar jolt of adrenaline that shot through him all the times the raven had done something similar, but for a completely different reason.

"We. Are not. Together. _Anymore_." He bit out, his face a mere inch away from Dean's.

"Seem pretty close to me, right now." He countered with a cocky smirk.

Castiel took a long look at the blond, like he was searching for something in his face that couldn't be said. "I don't know what I ever saw in you." He shook his head and took a step back in the direction of the principal's office.

Dean slouched against the cold brick wall and adjusted his jacket. He watched Castiel's retreating shape and asked himself the same question. "Neither do I." he answered himself.

He turned in the opposite direction and out of the school.

X

"Dean, sweetie, can you set the table please?" his mother called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, gimme a minute!" he shouted back from the living room.

He typed out the rest of his text and set his phone back in his pocket. He went to the kitchen, where Mary was putting the finishing touches on their supper. He grabbed some forks and some knives from the drawer and went to deposit them on the table.

"Oh, Dean. Set the table for eight." She said while she cracked some pepper over a bowl of something that smelled heavenly.

"Why?" he asked.

"The Novaks are coming over tonight. Didn't Sam tell you?" she looked at him, a light expression of surprise of her soft features.

"What." He felt dread knock the breath out of him.

"I'll have to have a word with that son of mine." She said to herself. "Now hurry, they'll be here any minute."

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit. Dean clamped his jaw shut and tightened his grip on the silverware, but said nothing and did as he was told. Mary sent him a funny look, but remained quiet as well. Suddenly the food didn't seem so good at the prospect of having the other family over.

He stormed up to his room when he was done, without a word to anyone, and threw himself onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering when it all went wrong. He knew, but didn't want to think about it.

He lay there, increasingly frustatrated, until the doorbell rang downstairs. He took a deep breath, held it, counted to three, and let it out. He did the exercise two more times before he got to his feet. He felt his head hang and his shoulders slump as he walked out of his room resigned to his fate for the night. This was certainly not how he expected to spend his Friday night.

He stayed at the top of the stairs while the Novaks came in and greeted the rest of his family. Gabriel walked in and Sam was immediately by his side, chatting him up. When Castiel walked through the door, he politely shook John's hand and embraced Mary. He nodded in Sam's direction with a small smile. Then he looked up the staircase to where Dean stood, and his face was carefully blank, like he didn't want to acknowledge that he was there. He snorted. _Fine, you fuck,_ he thought and walked down to join the rest of the household.

He joined them at the table, talking with Jimmy Novak about his project in history class, something he proved very intrested in, having been a former priest. Once in a while, he caught Castiel steeling a glance in his direction, but he paid no mind. He spoke to Gabriel, sharing disgusting puns that made Sam cringe, but laugh nonetheless. He gave a polite hug to Amelia as he passed to help his mother get the food on the table.

By the time everything was set, there was only two places left; one for him and one for his mother. The obvious place for Mary was beside John, which left Dean stuck between Sam and Castiel. Great. Fucking great.

He repressed a sigh of irritation and stiffly took his seat, making sure not to touch Castiel in the slightest. The raven, on the other hand, appeared completely unbothered by Dean's unfortunate presence to his left. He took a sip of water and waited for the food to be passed over to him. He took a little of everything, and passed it along, careful not to brush his fingers against his when he handed over a bowl or a dish.

"So, John," Jimmy began after his first bite of food. "How's the garage going these days?"

They talked on like normal, civilized people, occasionally chimming in on something and expressing their appreciation for the food. With everyone busy with their conversations, Dean and Castiel were left to themselves, mostly to silently eat and answer questions when they were asked. The blond just tossed his food around, his stomach too knotted with nerves. He picked at small pieces to make it look like he was eating, despite almost feeling sick.

"Dean," Amelia adressed him and it startled him a bit, enough to bump his leg into Castiel's, who shot him and amused look. He only glared in return before facing his mother.

"Yeah?"

"In about two weeks, we were thinking of going to the fair next town over and were wondering if you'd like to come with us." She said sweetly. "The invitation is for you, too, Sam."

Dean froze. 'We' meant the whole family. 'We' included Castiel. "I-" he tried. His mind flashed through all possible scenarios of whether he went or if he stayed. Distantly, The Clash's song played the chorus in a loop. Instinctively, he looked to the raven beside him, who only raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes dancing as if he was singing the song in his own head, too.

Dean swallowed hard and nearly choked. "I- I don't feel too good." He said and fled from the table, a hand over his stomach.

Up the stairs and into the bathroom is where he went, promptly closing the door and locking it behind him. He twisted the faucet for cold water and splashed his face, trying to calm his racing heart. He leaned on the sink and passed a still wet hand through his hair. His reflection stared back at him, panicked and pale as a sheet. Jesus Christ, he was a fucking mess. He wasn't supposed to be acting like this. He was supposed to be strong, to be a brick wall when it came to emotions, like everyone thought he was.

But Castiel was like C-4 to his brick and mortar. He broke through those walls and picked at whatever soft, plushy feelings he found there. He was the only other person aside from Sam that could do that to him. Even his parents weren't that effective. Castiel was the spy that infiltrated his heart and left with all that he could carry, all of which Dean had willingly given to him. Then he was left to pick up the pieces of whatever was left after the assault.

Just when he collapsed onto the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, there was a quiet knock at the door followed by a low voice.

"Dean?" Castiel said. "Are you okay?" concern tinted his tone.

"I'm fine." He snapped, trying to get his voice under control. "Leave me alone."

"Dean. Come on." He insisted. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Dean barely heard the last part. "For what?"

"Dean." He sighed. "I don't want to do this through a bathroom door."

He was quiet a moment as he considered this. Saying to himself _what do I have to lose, anyway?_ , he got up and unlocked the door to slowly creak it open. Castiel stood there, his hands in his pockets and looking tired. No, not quite tired; just… done, rather. Like he wanted this thing that had been going on between them for nearly half a year to be over.

"You wanna go for a walk?" the raven suggested, nodding in direction to the front door.

"Sure." Dean agreed.

Without a word, they went down to the entrance and pulled on their shoes and jackets. Before anyone at the table knew what was happening, the pair sliped out and into the night.

For a while, they simply walked down the street, the fall air chilly on their skin, but Dean didn't mind. The cold felt good compared to the hot panic he had felt just minutes ago. When they turned the corner, Castiel reached into his coat pocket. He pulled a cigarette from his pack and offered it to the blond beside him. Without thinking, he took it and fished his lighter from his own coat. He lit it and breathed in the smoke as deeply as he could before letting it out in a small white cloud. When he brought it up to take another puff, Castiel snatched it from his fingers and took a long breath of his own.

"What the Hell, man?" the blond teen protested.

The younger Novak just looked at him and exhaled. "I bought them."

Dean grumbled and begrudginly shared the cigarette while they walked. At some point, they diverged from the road and onto an old path that led into the forest. He remebered coming here, younger, with the raven in tow. They reached the old fallen tree and climbed over it. A little further, there was a bench that they had found one day and brought here. They sat there, and Castiel pulled out another cigarette.

"You know our moms are gonna kill us if we come back smelling like an ashtray." Dean pointed out.

"We met up with Ash and hung out at his for a while." He mumbled around the smoke as he lit it.

The other teen rolled his eyes and took the cancer-bringing stick when it was offered. For a long moment, the sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the night, quietly smoking. For once, the silence wasn't tense or uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry." Castiel finally said, his voice low.

Dean looked at him with a frown. He exhaled a pale cloud in front of him. "Why?"

"Because I was a dick."

"Dude, if anyone was a dick, it was me." He countered and passed the cigarette.

"What?" the raven's brow scrunched up as he took it.

"I'm an insufferable asshole who hides behind sarcastic comments and stupid jokes instead of saying what really needs to be said." He breathed. He looked up the the clear sky above, counted the stars.

"That's just who you are, Dean." Castiel said. "And despite that, I loved you. I still do, by the way." He added, almost as an afterthought.

Dean looked at the other at last. His eyes were quite blue in the moonlight, and he remembered why he let himself fall into them when he first saw them.

Still. "I pushed you away."

"You reacted in the only way you felt was safe to react. I know you, Dean, despite what you sometimes seem to think. I know that you have ten-foot-thick reinforced steel walls around anything that could be considered real emotion." Castiel laughed. "I'm surprised you ever got over yourself enough to actually kiss me the first time."

"Why wouldn't I have?" Dean retorted.

"Love is an emotion, Dean." The raven explained like he was talking to a little kid.

The other teen recoiled. "Dude, you know how many girls I kissed before you- that sounded better in my head." He said and looked away. Beside him, Castiel snorted a laughed. "Point is, I don't need to feel anything to kiss somebody."

"That's lust, Dean. You think with your dick."

"According to you, I _am_ a dick." He retorted before he could think to shut up. _Dammit_.

"Takes one to know one."

"Hey- wait. That's not you use that expression." The blond said.

"That's exactly how I use that expression." Castiel clairified. "My name may be of divine origin, but I am by no means an angel."

"Ha," Dean laughed. "Yeah, got that right." He winked and made a lewd gesture.

The raven smacked his arm. "Shut up, twit." He had a creeping smile on his lips, but it was quickly suppressed. "I just wanted to apologize for hurting you. As much as you pushed me away, I did the same to you." He adjusted his glasses on his face. He seemed to find his shoes incredibly interesting, at that moment.

Dean took a deep breath and watched the air curl up in the cold night air. His cheeks were getting cold. "I'm sorry too, Cas." He said quietly after a while. The raven blinked in surprise at the use of the nickname he hadn't heard in so long. "And, for the record, I still love you too. I just couldn't take sneaking around all the time. I get that your dad is religious and all, and that the fags are bad in the eyes of God but-"

"My dad knows."

"I just couldn't deal- wait. What?" he stalled midsentence.

"My dad knows. So does my mother, and my brothers." He said. "About me being gay, I mean." He quickly clarified. "Not about… Us. Whatever 'us' is. Was. Whatever." He huffed and looked up at the stars. "They're actually fine with it, surprisingly."

They were quiet a minute. Then:

"How did they find out?"

"Lucifer went fucking around in my laptop and found… things. Being the little bitch that he is, of course, he couldn't keep it to himself." He bit out, still bitter at the memory.

Dean couldn't help it; he barked an ugly laugh. "Oh God, that's hillarious."

"Yes, ha ha, laugh it up, you jerk." The raven snarled without any real venom.

"I'm entitled to." Dean finally said through his chuckles. "Sam knows about me, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I, uh… forgot to close my porn tab before letting Sammy use my computer for his homework." He felt the hot flush of emabarrassment rise of his cheeks and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "My parents don't know, though. At least, I don't think they do…" he trailed off.

This time it was Castiel's turn chuckle. When silence fell back between them, neither were inclined to break it for several minutes. They sat there, breath small white swirls as the cold lightly niped at their exposed skin. The stars overhead were partially eclipsed by the light of the moon, but certain constellations could still be seen. The wind blew gently through the trees, sending colorful leaves spiralling down. Castiel shivered, and Dean shifted closer to keep him warm. The raven leaned his head on his shoulder, and Dean realized how much he missed being like this. Close. Content.

The blond craned his neck to look at the other teen, who in turn gazed up at him over the rim of his glasses. Dean gently plucked them from his face, and lost himself in their azure depths. His heart pulled in his chest at the achinlgy familiar sight, a scene that had happened so many times before. He held his breath a second, his mind battling his heart, until heart won over thoughts, and he leaned in to press his lips against his.

He felt Castiel melt into the touch, and he brought his hand to cup Dean's face, sitting up a little without breaking contact. He moved his lips against his, claiming, possessive, as though to make up for the past five months when he was deprived of this. One of his hands found itself tangled in Dean's jacket, and he tugged to bring them closer, touching from chest to hip. Still, it wasn't enough.

Dean pushed him back and followed him over on top, tougue rediscovering the long lost lands of Castiel's mouth, licking, tasting. He nipped at his bottom lips and the raven made a small noise at the back of his throat. It only served to encourage Dean. He left his lips, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, to what he could reach of his collarbone under the layers of clothing. He bit down, then lapped gently at the mark. He made sure to leave a bruise, just where it could easily be covered, but seen if he wasn't careful.

Castiel's hands found themsleves in the blond's hair, tugging under his touch. He shifted his hips to have Dean more comfortably against him, and small sparks of pleasure coursed through him when he ended up grinding into him. A cold hand snaked its way under his leather jacket and T-shirt, up his ribs and passed a thumb over his nipple.

Dean let out a shuddering breath against his skin, acutely aware of the raven's hungry gaze on his face. He looked up and met instense, lust-blown eyes, and it was all he could not to smile at how happy he was to have this again. He recaptured his lips, a hand raking through soft dark locks, leaving them in even more of a dissaray than when this began.

Something buzzed against Dean's thigh and he jerked back. Castiel opened his eyes, confused, and then felt the buzzing in his pocket. He scowled deeply and fished the offending device out of his jeans pocket. He agressively pressed the answer button and held the phone to his ear.

"What." He greeted coldly.

" _Where are you, sweetie?_ " It was his mother's voice, Dean heard.

"Coming home."

" _Well, we were just about to go home. Did you want us to wait for you, or are you going to stay with Dean tonight?_ "

Castiel was silent. Dean looked down at him, an eyebrow raised. _Your call, man_.

"Don't wait up." Was all he said before he ended the call.

Dean smirked at him; about a hundred dirty things were running through his mind. Castiel glowered up at the teen.

"Just shut up, Wincester." He snapped. "Now, can we go back to the house? Because as much as I would like to continue this," he gestured between them. "I'm fucking freezing."

The blond extracted himself from the teen under him and offered his hand to help him up. "Shall we, _madame_?"

Castiel smacked his hand away and Dean laughed as he brushed himself off from dirt and leaves. "Fuck you, Dean."

"I fully intend to."

The raven found his glasses on the ground and pocketed them. He raised his gaze to the heavens with a theatrical sigh. "Oh Lord, Thou art in Heaven, give me the strength not to kill Dean Winchester."

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Cas. You said you loved me, despite being a dick."

"I said that, didn't I?" he glanced at him and narrowed his eyes. "But did I really mean it…?"

Dean chuckled and wrapped an arm around him, as they both headed home, falling into comfortable banter that they both had so dearly missed. They decided to give themsleves another chance, to stop hiding. Two weeks, later, Dean went to the fair with the Novaks along with Sam, and he was glad he had decided to run from the dinner table that night.

 **Right then. By the way, in case you don't quite get the title, think of the main antagonist of the series season 7. It's a pun. I like puns.**

 **Welp, that's all for now, folks. See ya tomorrow.**

 **-Miri.**


	4. Utopia

**Bonjour, ou, plutôt, bon matin.**

 **Theme for day four: Utopia.**

 **Just to clarify a few things, I want to say that this is set in a somewhat distant future, where people harldy know what crime is anymore. Of course, humanity always finds a way, so there's always the need for police.**

 **Warnings for this chapter: swearing, violence… I think that's it?**

 **Right then! Enjoy, mes chers!**

Paradise City

" _Let me paint you a picture. A picture of a world without fear, a world of peace."_

Such are the words that played in Sam's head, echoes of days long past.

He stared up at the bland white ceiling of his cell, trying to find the will to get out of bed and face another day. He lay like that, motionless yet awake, for what seemed like an hour, but in reality, was only fifteen minutes. His alarm blared out in a shrill tone that made him cringe deeply. He had requested multiple times to have the sound changed, but nothing had ever come of it.

He supposed that it could always be worse, though. As a Hellhound – a former criminal, 'employed' by the government – he was allowed out of his cell. Of course, it was only under heavy supervision and on the condition he cooperated with the authorities in finding and eliminating criminal threats in the city. But it was better than being caged up like an animal in prison. Better than being dead. Though, some days, death did seem a lot more appealing than 'working '.

When a sharp knock at his cell door resounded, he sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. It was going to be a long day, he could feel it in his bones. Within a handful of minutes, he was ready to begin the day. He went to the cell door, knocked twice and stepped back to the line as he waited.

The door clicked and hissed as it slid back. On the other side, his supervisor and 'partner', of a sense, was waiting patiently. He was impassive as ever, his hands in the pockets of the beige trench coat he perpetually wore. His tie was also done wrong, backside-up, and his hair was the same unkempt mess. Sam sometimes wondered how it was that the guy ever made it in the special task force in the first place.

"Hello Sam." He greeted.

"Hey Cas."

They awkwardly stood there a minute, just staring and not knowing what to do or say, until Castiel at last turned to walk down the hall in direction to their general quarters. Sam followed, suppressing a smirk at his superior's obvious lack of social skills. They entered the main room, where the Hellhounds and their supervisors met every day to discuss their plan action. He went over to his desk at the far end of the room and idly swiped his hand in front of the screen to wake it up. An old picture of he and Dean was set as background, from when he was about ten years old in front of their childhood home.

"Nice of you to join us, Sam." Another Hellhound, Rowena, said as she passed him to take a seat at her own desk. "Have you heard of our next case?"

"No I didn't." he replied, barely sparing a glance for the redhead. At the best of times, she could be a major pain in the ass, and it was only because she was exceptionally good at tracking down criminals that she wasn't locked up with the more dangerous lot.

A small, knowing smile curved her lips. She flipped her curled hair back and turned to her screen. "Well, this will be interesting."

Sam frowned. It was never a good sign when she smiled like that. He gave a small shrug and swivelled in his chair to face the center table, where the other officers and Hellhounds were gathering. On the other side of the room, Ruby sent him a sultry look, while Bella, next to her, only rolled her eyes and snapped at her about something. When the discussion became a little too heated, Jessica, Ruby's superior, stepped in and told them to cool it. She turned and gave Sam an apologetic look, at which the man only laughed and grinned at her. He and the blonde woman got along well despite circumstances.

Lucifer – aptly named and quite infamous among the people of their department for his particularly psychologically intense crimes – was practically laying in his chair, his feet propped up in the table. Castiel scowled at him and told him to get his muddy boots off the damn table, and Lucifer rolled his eyes with a petulant comment, but removed his feet just the same. As soon as Sam's supervisor was out of sight, Gabriel came around and started an animated discussion with the Hellhound, complete with winking and overly lewd gestures. That was put to an end when Michael entered the room and borrowed his subordinate for a moment. Gabriel clapped Lucifer on the shoulder that was probably meant for good luck and then went on to pester his own charge, Bella.

Hannah at last entered the room and had a quick word with Castiel before both officers went to their respective charges. Rowena greeted the kind-looking brunette with and air of contempt and superiority, at which Hannah didn't seem the least bothered by. Castiel was looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and when she went to say something to him, he quickly looked away. Sam hid a smirk and innocently shrugged when the raven glared at him.

Michael and Lucifer came back and took a seat at the Hellhound's desk, followed shortly by Anna Milton, the head of their department. The whole room stood to attention, albeit with some laziness from the Hounds, and the redhead nodded in guise of a salute.

"At ease, people." She said and approached the table. "Today, we have a particular case on hand."

"Since when are our cases ever normal?" Rowena grumbled quietly beside Sam.

"Since never?" he whispered back, tone flat.

"As you know, four years ago, some you were on a case to track down a dangerous pair of brothers: the Winchesters." She reminded the ones present back then and informed the ones who were not. Sam stood straight and listened intently. "We succeeded in arresting only one of the brothers, who is among us today. Samuel Winchester."

He felt ten pairs of eyes on his instantly, and he wanted nothing more badly than to melt into the floor. But he couldn't. This was about his brother. "What about us?" he asked instead.

Anna raised her chin, moving her gaze to each person in the room. "We've recently picked up a sighting of one of his associates, Fergus MacLeod, who also goes by the name of Crowley. Cameras sighted him on the corner of 5th and Saint-Mathews, in District 21. Further investigation revealed a possible base location nearby, and it is there that we are to be dispatched to attempt an arrest on Dean Winchester and his associate."

Sam felt Rowena's gaze intent on him. He glanced at her, puzzled by her expression. Before he could think too much about it, Anna called him to attention. "Sam. What can you tell us about your brother?"

He stared at her, bewildered by the whole situation. Without thinking, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"You're all dead."

At his desk, Lucifer snorted a laugh. He was promptly told to shut up by Michael.

"Excuse me?" the redhead said.

"I- I mean," Sam struggled to find some way to explain how royally fucked they all were if they went after Dean and Crowley. "You killed our father, and 'employed' me after you arrested me. He's either gonna try and bust me free, or just flat out kill us all, me included."

Anna raised an eyebrow, composure cool. "And if he were to try and bust you out, what would you do?"

He remained silent a moment, looking her straight in the eye. "Make an educated guess."

Her face stayed stone still as she thought. For a second, it looked as though she was going to actually say her thoughts on the matter out loud, but thought better of it. "Is there anything else we need to know about Dean?" she asked, her tone icy.

"I'll let you know if I think of something." He replied just as coldly.

"Right." She didn't appear to believe him. "Castiel. Never is Samuel to leave your sight for the duration of this case in the field. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." He replied solemnly.

"Good. Now, here's the plan…"

X

This is how things were supposed to go:

When they arrived on site, they were to be briefed about the terrain and possible threats. Specialty weapons were to be handed out to the Hellhounds and the supervisors. Teams will be made, and each will follow their specific set of orders, which generally revolved around storming the place and stunning anyone with a threat level below sixty-two. All those higher than that will be terminated, unless under direct orders from a superior. They find Dean and Crowley, or anything that will help them track them down and get out back to headquarters.

Simple enough.

Sam sat in the secured transport truck with the other Hellhounds. He leaned back against the cold metal of the reinforced steel behind him, his thoughts numb. After four years of torturous work with the authorities, forced labor – nearly slave labor, at times – all for the sake of not being in actual prison, he was going to see Dean again. Four years without word, not even a whisper in the news, with only the memory of being beaten down and stunned by a Hellhound pistol as his last glimps of his brother. Still today, he felt the paralysing fear of being left behind, combined with the effect of the gun, and he tried hard not to shudder in his seat.

He looked at the others around him and caught Rowena staring at him strangely. He narrowed his eyes. "What?"

She started, caught, and moved her gaze to the corner far corner of the box. "Nothing."

"You're looking at me."

"And what makes you so special that I can't lay eyes on you, Winchester?" she snarked.

"You've been looking at me _weird_ since this morning." He clairfied and leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. "Why?"

She crossed her legs and blinked at him under heavy lashes. "Because you're weird, maybe?"

Evasion. He knew the tactic well. "Fine. Whatever." He said and feigned disinterest.

Silence fell back between the Hounds. Then:

"What's Fergus like?" the redhead asked at last.

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Bag of dicks, about yay high," he motioned with his hand. "British piece of shit. Insane on the edges, too. Never knew if he was gonna screw us over or not." He said offhandedly.

"Sounds charming." She smirked.

Sam thought of something then. "Isn't your last name MacLeod?"

Rowena froze a fraction of a second. The others were half paying attention, but the younger Winchester didn't miss it. She flipped her hair back from her shoulder. "Yes, it is."

"Like Crowley." Lucifer pipped up.

"No relation." She dissmissed.

Sam was about to add something, but the truck cam to halt at last, jostling the passengers inside. The doors knocked and ticked as it was unlocked before it hissed open and dim light filtered in. The Hellhounds filed out and waited while their supervisors retrieved them. It was pouring rain and disgustingly humid, neon lights stuttered on the buildings around them. They were in a poorer district, where law inforcement was a little slacker. A perimiter was set up with a rain shelter, and there was a small crowd of civilians gathering around, just behind the line of police guard bots.

Anna Milton approached the group, and a cart was wheeled in. It opened up to reveal their guns. Both Hounds and supervisors each took one, set it to their prints and locked the settings. They were government issused weapons that were identified to authorized users only, meaning that if they lost it, it wasn't anyone that could just pick it up and go on a rampage.

"Attention." Anna called and all stood still. "The objective is two miles south of here, and you will have to go on foot. We don't want them to know we're coming. Jessica, Ruby, you're team A. You will enter the building from the north and clear that section. Gabriel and Bella, team B, you'll take the east, while Hannah and Rowena, team C take the west. Castiel and Sam, team D will enter from the south, through the front door. You will clear the building as you go through it, but your main objective is to find Dean Winchester and Crowley. Once all cleared, you meet up, advance, repeat. Teams A through C will remain some distance behind, covering for A when you have sight of the target. You are not to let yourselves be seen unless absolutely necessary. Michael and Lucifer, you'll be team E, tracking our people and guiding them throuhg the terrain."

"Aww come on, Milton." Lucifer drawled. "Why am I never in the assault teams?"

"Need I really repeat myself?" she snapped. The Hound pulled a grimace, but settled. "Elliminate the threats as your weapons sees fit, but do _not_ , under any circumstance, kill Winchester." She looked each of them in the eye. "You disable him, stun him, beat him to a bloody pulp – I don't care. But he remains alive. Do I make myself clear?"

A chorus of 'yes, ma'am' echoed out. Then Rowena spoke up.

"Permission to speak, ma'am?"

"Granted."

"What of Fergus?"

"The main objective is Dean Winchester. Dispose of Crowley as is seen fit by your weapon."

The curled redhead set her jaw tight. "Understood, ma'am."

"Any more questions?" Silence. "Then get moving." She dismissed.

After a final equipement check, the teams seperated in their respective directions. Sam followed Castiel swiftly through the rain, feeling it soak his clothes and slick his grip on his pistol. They moved silently through the streets, hidden in the shadows and away from potential watchful eyes. The Hellhound felt his heart pounding and heard the rush of blood in his ears as adrenaline pumped through his veins. Normally, on any other case, he was cool and collected; he'd lived through worse during his time with his father. But he had never been up against his own brother before. This was a whole new level of fucked up, and that was saying something.

Breath coming in short panths, they pulled up at the end of an alley and pressed themselves flat against the wall, view partially obscured from the target building. Castiel poked his head around the corner and checked to see if the coast was clear.

" _You're good to go._ "Lucifer's snarky voice was heard in his earpiece.

" _Everyone is in place._ " Michael added. " _Go in three, two, one… Now._ "

Castiel and Sam sprinted to the entrance of the abandonned factory, busting down the rusted door of the main entrance. As one, they cleared the area. They advanced through the building, finding most rooms empty, guided by the voices of Lucifer and Michael when the path was unclear. In one area, they had to stop: ahead, the floor was rigged with preasure plates that most likely led to a bomb. Castiel bent low on the first plate and spent about five minutes disarming the trap before he declared it safe to be walked on. The room, they discovered, contained rations and bedrolls, both of which had been recently used. In one roll, Sam reconized his father's notebook. He holstered his gun and picked it up. Castiel joined him once the room had been cleared.

"What is it?" the raven asked.

"My dad's journal.' He flipped through the pages. "He used to write down almost everything that happened in it."

Castiel hummed. "Anything about where Dean could be?"

"He's here." Sam replied, his hand sifting the worn sheets. He stilled on one page, near the end. _Five'O_. He snapped the book closed and handed it to his superior. "He wouldn't have left this here if he wasn't."

"Right. Let's go."

The first floor of the building was suprisingly empty. They met with the other teams near the elevators. Of course, they weren't in service, so they split up again and each took a staircase from the far corners of the factory. Before seperating again, Sam stole a glance at Rowena. She appeared unusually agitated, even for a hunt.

' _No relation', my ass,_ he thought to himself as he followed Castiel up the set of stairs.

On the second storey, they encountered life. Most of the people they subdued were none that Sam knew, and thankfully none necessited anything more than to be stunned and restrained, save one. The man had suddenly reared on them while in the process of being cuffed, having somehow resited the stunning effect of Sam's gun. He clocked Castiel solid on the jaw, and he in turn shot the man in the skull, unbliking, dead center. The Hellhound was now reminded of why he had made it into the task force.

They cleared room after room, finally getting to the last one of their area. Sam had managed to get shot only once – through his right flank, a grazing wound – but aside from that and the raven's swelling cheekbone, they had sustained no other damage. They bust through the door and shouted for the people inside to stand down. They shot round after round, neutralizing the enemy without mercy.

"Sam?" A familiar voice sounded from Castiel's end of the room.

The man turned to look, and saw Garth on the floor, his jaw and eyes the only moving parts of his body, and just barely so. He went over to him and bent down to his level.

"Garth. Where's Dean?" he asked, though he was beginning to have the sneaking suspicion he knew exaclty where his brother was waiting. Leave it to Dean to go out in a blaze of glory.

"I don't know." He mumbled through the anesthetic. "He told us to get ready and just took off." His eyes told him that he wasn't saying the whole truth, and the Hound was grateful for the crappy lighting of the place; it kept Castiel from seeing the silent exchange.

"Of course he did. Dammit." Sam swore and played along. He claped a hand on his shoulder and let Castiel restrain him.

"You know him?" he whispered when they were back on the move to the last staircase of the building, the only one that led to the roof.

"Yeah." The Hound replied. "Good guy."

The raven only grunted in response.

The other teams were already waiting for them when they got there. Sam passed them and climbed the steps first, so tense he wanted to throw up, but he trudged on, his weapon at the ready before him. Castiel followed closely behind him, and the rest of the group was further behind, instructed to keep back in the staiwell unless fire was opened.

He cautiously opened the door to the roof, this time, cheking the blind spots and corners before completely coming out into the rain. He readjusted his grip on the pistol. His hands shook. Carefully, he stepped out into the center of the platform, clearing all places where gunners could be waiting.

"Hello, Moose. Nice of you to join us tonight." A rough British voice sounded behind Sam and Castiel . Immediately, their weapons were trained on the figure standing in the dim neon glow of the surronding buildings. "Too bad you had to bring company."

"Crowley." Sam said coldly despite his pounding heart. "Where's Dean?"

"Out and about. You know, the usual." He stood there with hs hands in his pockets, perfectly calm.

"Cut the crap." The Hellhound snapped and aimed his gun at his chest. "Just tell us, so that we don't have to hurt anyone else."

"You know I don't give a rat's ass about who dies here."

"I do."

Rowena was out in the rain, hair falling flat as water soaked into it. Her weapon was also pointed at Crowley.

"Mother?" he sounded genuinely surprised.

"Oh! He remembers me!" she exclaimed.

Behind her son, Sam saw a shadow move in the rain. He followed it with his eyes, but didn't remained motionless.

"Difficult to forget the person you trusted most. Especially when she tries to kill you."

"It's difficult, being a single mother!" she deffended. "Knowing when to love your child… When to kill him." She shrugged. In his earpiece, Sam heard Lucifer's ugly bark of laughter.

"We can play Family Feud later, okay?" Castiel cut in, and mildy surprised his charge that he knew the reference. "Tell us where Dean is."

Crowley turned his gaze to Sam and took a step forwards. Their guns followed the move. "Poughkeepsie."

In the blink of an eye, a bullet storm erupted around them from the surrounding buildings. Castiel took a round in the shoulder as he and Rowena ran for the nearest cover available. Sam noted that none of the bullets were aimed at him, so he took his chance and ran to where he saw the shadow disappear. He rounded the corner, gun still in hand, only find himself face to face with his brother.

"Dean." He breathed.

Behind him, cries for backup and jammed guns rose into the night.

"Hey Sammy." He grinned.

"I hope you have a fucking plan, because we are royally fucked if you don't."

"Just pulling it out of my ass, like always."

"Shut up, you jerk. Not the time."

"Says who, bitch?" he pulled out a weird-looking gun from his coat pocket.

"What is that?" Sam asked and flinched as a stray bullet came too close for his liking.

"The way out."

"What?" his eyes widened. "You want to kill us?"

"No way, dude!" he grabbed his brother and jogged to the edge of the roof.

Sam pulled his arm back. "The fuck are you thinking?!" he cried. "Are you fucking crazy?!"

"Yep! That's me!" He looked over the side and fired a single shot down into the street below. An unnatural green glow flashed and wavered on the walls nearby, which cast Dean in an odd shimmering halo.

"Sam Winchester!" A rough shout came from close behind him.

He looked back to see Castiel running towards them, weapon in hand and aimed at him. He pressed himself against a metal chimney that stuck out from the roof. Bullets bolted past him and rang when they hit the steel pipe.

"This is a weapons-free zone, sweetheart." Dean said above the din of the battle beyond. "That thing ain't gonna work. Just the good old fashioned kind do."

"Don't go, Sam." The raven ordered.

The younger Winchester took his place beside Dean on the ledge and stole a glance downwards. A swirling green pool was in the middle of the alley below. He understood, but it didn't stop a shiver of terror from passing through him. _Blaze of glory_ , he told himself.

"Come with us, Cas."

"You wanna bring the Angel!?" Dean exclaimed.

"He's good, Dean!" Sam defended.

"You'll be an enemy of the state, Sam! Hunted like an animal! Don't do this!"

"Because living as the government's attack-dog is any better?!" He countered. "Fuck that! I was living just fine before, and that's not gonna change now. Don't you understand how messed up this whole thing is?!"

Castiel breathed heavily as rain pelted them. "This is utopia comapred to the past, Sam."

"If this is what world peace means, then I'm out." He said, his tone hard.

He threw a look at Dean, who then glanced below. He grasped his forearm and nodded at the elder Winchester. He threw the raven one last glance.

"It's called 'free will', Cas."

And he fell back.

He saw Castiel scramble towards him as he accelerated towards the swirling green of the portal. His head stuck out over the ledge for a second before two other figures jumed over. One of them grabbed the raven by the collar of his trench coat and sent him tumbling down ungracefully with them, while the other figure let out a screech of pure exhileration.

Sam couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he freefell through the air. At the moment where he should have hit the ground and been scattered across the asphalt, his stomach twisted sickeningly and he blacked out.

 **Guess who jumped off after Sam and Dean? Hint: they're related.**

 **Also, the reason Dean calls Cas an 'Angel' is the same reason I call Sam and the others 'Hellhoud'. It's firgurative, a title, not litteral. Just making sure we're all on the same page here.**

 **Welp, there ye have it, mates. Sing that song!**

 **-Miri.**


	5. Dystopia

**Hey, hey. Guess what? Part two of** _ **Paradise City**_ **. Theme: Dystopia. I had some trouble wiritting this thing and it took way too long to make for a mere 6000 words, not even. Oh well. What's sleep anyway?**

 **Anyhoo, warnings apply in this one: graphic depictions of violence, murder, mention of inhumane medical procedures, psychological trauma… That's enough, I think.**

 **With that said and done, lisez-donc, chers lecteurs.**

Freewill

" _It's called 'free will', Cas."_

Sam groaned as he woke. He felt so exhausted that he couldn't even open his eyes, his whole body aching like he went twelve rounds with a fucking gladiator. It hurt so much that he couldn't even appreciate the bed he was in - the softest thing he had slept in for four years.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" A too loud and very obnoxious voice sounded from his right.

"Fuck off, Dean." He grumbled. He would be turning his back to him, if his limbs would only obey him.

"Aww come on, Sammy! I missed ya!"

"I didn't."

His brother gasped. "Ouch. That hurts, man."

Sam finally managed to crack open and eye. The room he was in was mercifully dark, with one lamp in the far corner as the only source of illumination. He tilted his head in direction his brother's voice was coming from, and found him sitting on another bed next to his. They were in a hotel room, he guessed. He fixed him with the most withering bitchface he could muster through the pain.

"Tell me about it."

Dean fought to repress a smirk, somewhat unsuccessfully. "You'll live, bitch. It the first time that hurts the most. Gets the more you do it. Just like-"

"Shut up, jerk." Sam snapped and tried to dispel disturbing images of his brother from his mind. "Since when do you have a- a fucking _portal gun_ , anyway?"

He tried to sit up, and nearly got the breath knocked out of him. Dean helped him up and Sam groaned as his muscles protested. Once he was sure his brother wasn't going to keel over, he sat back down across from him.

"A couple months back, Ash owed me a huge favor. I said – as a joke, of course – that a portal gun would be cool. Guess he took it pretty seriously." He shrugged. "Didn't think he had it in him."

"What the fuck, man…" Sam trailed off.

"It came in pretty useful a couple of times the cops got too close. And when I needed to run away from a psycho chick. There was this one girl, she was fucking, hot man, but she was _not_ worth dying for." He shook his head animatedly.

The younger Winchester smirked. He had missed this, his brother's overly detailed accounts of close encounters, his borderline indecent jokes that seemed to flow out of him like a river, even is he'd never say it aloud. In the four years separated from each other, Dean had changed a lot. He got leaner, his face tanned and freckled from long days in the sun. A scar ran from his left temple to his cheek, probably a knife wound. His voice got deeper, rougher, too. Even his eyes had changed, having been once bright and eager, now darker, more somber and serious. Now that he wasn't in the rain and out of the sickly light of broken neon signs, Sam noticed these things.

He reminded him a lot of John Winchester, especially in his old leather jacket.

"I tried to bust you out, you know." Dean said quietly, looking down at his hands in his lap.

"I know."

"I hope you at least tried to get out?" Dean turned his gaze to his brother, unreadable. Sam knew that look: silent judgment.

"In the first year, yeah I did." Sam admitted. "But then, they got tired of my shit and put me in solitary confinement for six weeks." He took a deep breath and fought the shudder that willed itself down his spine. "I thought I was going mad, Dean. No sunlight, no people, no noise aside from myself . The only way I knew how much time passed was by marking down the times the lights turned off to sleep, scratching lines on the wall with a fucking loose screw form my bed."

The elder brother just continued to look at his brother silently.

"So when they said to me: 'we'll let you out, Winchester, on the condition that you do our dirty work' – I said yes. Anything was better than being trapped in my own personal, sensory-deprived, white-walled Hell. Forgive me if I didn't try much after that." Sam's tone was on the cold side.

Dean swallowed hard an looked down at his boots. "I'm sorry." He said at last, fixing Sam with his green gaze. "I shouldn't have let them take you, I should've-"

"You didn't let them take me, Dean." Sam felt his anger evaporate a little. "They got the drop on me, and you did all you could without getting arrested. Or killed." He added quietly.

Dean frowned at him and opened his mouth to say something, but the siblings were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Red hair poked through the opening door, along with a very familiar face.

"Dean? The Angel and the other Hound are awake- Sam!" She exclaimed upon seeing him. She threw the door fully open and launched herself into his arms.

He fell back onto the mattress, sparks of pain blinding him momentarily along with a face full of bright red hair. "Charlie!"

She straightened and then looked guilty and sorry. "Oh! Right, first time portal pain. Sorry."

Sam breathed deeply and took her outstretched hand to sit back up. "It's fine." He ground out. It wasn't fine. It hurt like a motherfucker.

"You know," she said, still looking a little sheepish. "We thought you were dead, for a while. Until we saw you on the news after you took down the Thule."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really?"

"Well, when they took you away, you didn't really look all that alive. And they had killed John, too and-" she cut herself off, green eyes wide. "Well, we didn't really know what to think." She finished lamely.

"I get it." Was all he said.

After a beat of heavy silence, Charlie spoke again. "Your buddies are awake in the next room over, if you want to see them. Though, watch out for the guy. He isn't too happy about being here."

"I'm sure he isn't." Sam gave a tight smile. "Where is 'here' anyway?" he asked.

"Japan." Dean said casually.

"Japan." He repeated. " ."

"I know." Dean shrugged.

"Portal gun."

"Yep."

"Sure."

With a monumental effort, Sam rose to his feet and followed his brother and the exuberant redhead out. The hallway was as dimly lit as the room, sparsely decorated and in dark shades of colour. They opened the door to the room across the hall. Inside, Rowena lay on one bed, Crowley sitting in a chair nearby, talking softly together. On the other bed, Castiel was sitting, one wrist cuffed to a bedpost and his wounded arm hastily bandaged. And he definitely didn't look happy.

"Hey Cas."

"Sam." He said coldly.

"How are you feeling?" he asked for lack of anything better to say.

"Terrible. And immensely pissed off."

"That is to be expected, Feathers." Crowley quipped, he and his mother having stopped talking in favor of better entertainment. "You'll get over it."

"I doubt it." Sam had the sense we wasn't referring to his aching body. He glared at his charge – no, _former_ charge – and if he didn't know better, the youngest Winchester thought that he may have been plotting murder.

"Welcome to the club, buddy." Dean walked over and clapped a hand over the raven's shoulder. "Team free will, we are."

"You're criminals, on the country's most wanted list."

"Well thank fuck we aren't in the States, right now, huh." Dean smirked, cocky.

"You're dead when they find me." He said, his gaze like ice on the others in the room.

"They won't find you." Crowley said simply.

"Don't underestimate the-"

"The only reason you found us this time," Dean cut in. "Is because we wanted you to. Don't underestimate _us_ , Castiel."

The raven glared. "I don't know what you expect to accomplish with this."

"Freedom?"Charlie pipped up.

"'Freedom'?" Castiel almost spat the word. "How do you expect to have freedom when you're living as fugitives?"

"Take down the world order and restore mankind to its former imperfect beauty." The British man said, sarcasm dripping from the words despite their truth.

The raven's eyed them with bewilderment. "You're talking about total anarchy!"

"We're talking about being able to say 'I'll fucking kill you!' when we're pissed and don't mean it without the cops arresting our asses." Dean countered. "We're talking about saying 'Damn, that's hot' without being taken in for sexual harassment. We're talking about just fucking _living_ , without having the government breathing down our God damn necks, waiting to bust our asses for being _human_!" he finished in a shout that echoed in the room's tense silence.

"You're crazy." He shook his head. "You're all fucking suicidal, mentally unstable, crazy lunatics."

"Says the one who uses criminals to hunt down other criminals." Sam retorted coolly.

The raven bristled at the comment. "It does take one to know one, after all." It was cheap shot, but it worked.

"You'll understand soon enough." He replied and left the room.

X

Two weeks later, Castiel had been deemed safe enough to be permitted out of the hotel room he was kept in, always under Sam's supervision. At times, the young Winchester was tempted to laugh at how their roles found themselves reversed. The raven had attempted to escape twice in that time, and the second time was only avoided because he had no idea how to use the portal gun. From that moment on, he practically lived cuffed to Sam, and the gun was permanently on Dean, he and Ash the only two people who knew how to use it.

Everyday, they underwent training, both tactical and physical, to keep up their strength and sharpen their skills. Target practice was a particularly intense time of day, when Sam had to watch Castiel empty clip after clip of practice rounds dead-center on target. He also proved himself to be near unbeatable when it came to physical training. When Sam was working with him as a Hellhound, he had rarely had the opportunity to see Castiel truly in action. It was now clear to him why he had been accepted into the task force.

Two months passed before they gathered their things to move out to the United States again. Many people on their team dreaded going through a portal again, but none had the choice. The order was clear and it was to be executed immediately.

The second time he passed through the portal was much less taxing on his body than the first, like his molecules knew what to expect when passing through the swirling green doorway and prepared to be disturbed and put back together again. When they emerged, it was in yet another abandoned factory on the outskirts of Pontiac, Illinois. It was far enough from the big cities that it still sort of looked like a normal and simple place, from before the government enforce the new laws on criminality.

When Castiel emerged from the portal, it was like he got punched in the stomach. He took in his surroundings, looking like he had seen an army of ghosts march by.

"You okay, Cas?" Sam asked.

"Y-yeah… It's just… I haven't been here in a very long time." He answered distantly.

The former Hellhound frowned. "You used to live here?"

"I… Once had a family, here. On Oak Street South." He paused. "I had a wife and a daughter, here."

"What happened to them?" Sam blurted out before he could think to shut up.

The raven turned a lost gaze on him. "They were arrested."

"For what?"

"For arguing in the streets. My daughter, Clair, wanted to go see a friend that night, and Amelia had forbade her. They argued, and words were said that neither of them meant, and it looked like it could have become violent, seen from the crowd and the police bots – Clair had such a temper on her, it was exhausting at times, but she was a good kid. She'd never hurt anyone. She was only a teenager when she was brought in. I haven't seen her or my wife since that night."

"And yet," Sam said in a gentle tone. "You entered the special task force and worked for the same people that locked away your family for none other than a perfectly normal, teenage rebel-against-her-parents argument. How is that okay, Cas?"

"I-" he started. "I don't know." He admitted at last. He looked at the other man, at a complete loss. "What am I doing, Sam?"

"Getting them back."

X

They lay in wait, every possible position occupied by someone of their forces. They had managed to receive a message from Garth that everything was set up on his end to take this thing down. Sam gripped his gun – a real, proper gun, one that used bullets and not electric charges, disguised as an officla version – and shifted in his spot at the base of a building nearby the Headquarters of the task force. This was the main building, where all the important people were, where everything was directed from. It was the place where freedom would be gained for those unjustly imprisoned for being human.

He glanced at Castiel behind him, and noted that he was shaking. He pointedly avoided Sam's gaze and checked his pistol to make sure, once more, that everything was in working order and adjusted his officially licenced gun in his hands. In front of him, Dean was in his deadly serious state that he fell into during a mission. He checked in on the coms that everything was ready, everyone in place. He gave the signal to begin.

Castiel restrained Dean with a pair of modified officer's cuffs, making sure to set everything for him to break free when need be, and they moved to the main entrance of the building. As soon as they passed the threshold, about twenty officers aimed for them, and it took everything Sam had not to flinch. He was silently praying that Ash had blocked the monitors properly to conceal the illegal guns on Castiel's and Sam's pockets.

"I need to see Anna Milton." Castiel demanded. If it weren't for the slight tremor in his hands, the act would be perfect.

The guard at the central desk picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number. Within a minute, Anna was walking into the lobby.

"Officer Novak." She greeted. "I thought you were dead."

Sam repressed the urge to snap at her that they weren't the cold-blooded band of murderers she thought they were. "We have Dean." He said coldly instead.

"Sam Winchester. You surprise me." She turned her gaze to him. "My 'educated guess' had me believing that you would not turn against your brother."

"Guess again." He couldn't help it.

"So this is the infamous Dean Winchester, son of the belated John Winchester." She walked up to the elder brother, mere inches between them. "I would say that it's an honor to meet you, but it isn't, really."

Dean clenched his jaw shut and looked away, breathing heavily. For the first time since being brought here years, Sam saw Anna smirk. It was barely more than a twitch of her lips, but it was there all the same. And he did not miss it.

"We should call in Doctor Hess." Castiel interjected.

Green eyes flashed to his dangerously. "Take them to holding cell fifty two. She will meet you there."

And she was gone.

A troupe of five guards surrounded them as they mounted into the elevator. They were cramped in the small space, barely enough air to breathe with the doors open; it was suffocating when they closed. It was an agonizing trip up the hundred storeys, heavy silence and sweaty palms. He felt the weight of his pistol in his holster, a very real gun.

At last, the doors opened into a brightly lit white corridor. They stepped out and were led to a secured room, which was locked when the guards left them in there. It was devoid of any furniture, save cold metal table and two chairs, face-to-face. Dean had been seated on one such chair, handcuffs linked to the table so he couldn't get up and walk around in the room. Castiel stood behind him, his weapon at the ready, as was protocol with highly dangerous detainees. Sam was in a corner, farthest from the door, his own gun still in hand.

He looked at the white walls, the bleak lighting, the lack of any windows and way sounds seemed to die out almost as soon as they were made. His heart beat faster, his breathing fast and shallow. He glanced at the door, his palms slick on his weapon.

"Sam." Castiel broke his rising panic with a low tone. "You're not there anymore."

He snapped his head around to look at the raven, standing impassively in the corner. He had stopped shaking. Dean was stealing little anxious looks at him, his head down and wrists restrained on the metallic table.

Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. _You're not there,_ he told himself. He lifted his hand to the shoulder wound he had received from a stray bullet a week back. He pressed his fingers onto the still sensitive flesh, wincing at the pain. _I'm here. Not there. Never there again. I'm here. I'm here…_ It played like a mantra in his mind until the door suddenly clicked unlocked and he dropped his hand back at his side.

A woman walked in, in her mid-fifties, dressed sharply in a suit and skirt. She had her hair done up like something from an old movie, as well as an imperial air to her. The door slid shut behind her, and she stood there a moment, hands clasped before her as she passed each of them under the cold gaze. Then, she took three steps to the table, heels clacking sharply on the unforgiving ground, pulled out a chair and sat down, her hands now on the table.

For a long, insufferable minute, there was utter silence in the room. Not even Dean quipped anything, as was his usual method of dealing with serious situations. Sam fought the urge to break the silence, his previous panic still there in the background, slowly rising again as the silence stretched on. When he moved to say something, Castiel sent the former Hellhound a look that quickly dissuaded him for that course of action. He clamped his jaw shut, instead, and suffered in the silence.

"Dean Winchester." She said at last with a posh British accent.

"That's my name, yeah." Dean finally said, unable to hold back any longer. "Kinda wore it out a while ago, though."

The woman was not amused by his antics. "Do you know who I am, Mr. Winchester?"

"Never really paid attention to politics." He dismissed.

"My name is Doctor Hess." She said, ignoring his sarcasm. "I am the head of this organization, founder of the Hellhound Program, and lead scientist on our new project: Unity Tulpa."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Dean leaned back in his chair as far as his restrained arms would allow.

"Do you know what a Tulpa, is Mr. Winchester?" She raised her chin slightly and looked at him down the bridge of her nose.

"It's Tibetan," Sam said. Doctor Hess looked sharply at him. "A-a form of meditation that was believed to bring thoughts into reality. It was performed by entire temples at a time, since it required many people for it to work." he hastily added.

"Exactly so." She replied disdainfully, like Sam had stolen her punchline. She turned back to Dean, who only shrugged.

"You said 'Mr. Winchester'."

At this, the woman narrowed her eyes. "There is a reason I wanted you alive, Dean. You're of no use to my work if you're dead."

"Is that so?" Sarcasm.

"It is. You see, you've a special mind, Dean, much like Castiel's daughter, Clair Novak, and Hannah Johnson form special forces."

"What did you do to my daughter?" Castiel demanded.

Hess ignored him and continued talking to Dean. "See, we need only your brain. Your body would be useless, seeing as you wouldn't be moving."

"What about Amelia?" the raven continued.

The blonde woman twitched minutely and directed her attention to the offier. "She got in our way and was disposed of." She said coldy, sharply.

"So what, you're just gonna extract my bain like a God damn mindflayer?" Dean reeled back.

"Mindflayer?" Sam questioned.

"Charlie forced me to play Dungeons and Dragons while you were gone, okay?" Dean deffended.

"Essentially, yes." Doctor Hess replied calmly, a warm smile lighting her face coldly. Behind Dean, Castiel was shaking, breathing heavily. "Your mind would be added to the countless others we've already collected, to be part of a single entity. You will be part of a hive-mind, Dean. Together, as Unity, you will help us stop crime before it even has a chance to emerge. You'd be implanted in the security systems througout the states, observing, evaluating, and protecting. An AI without the A."

"And you don't see how this could go horrendously wrong?" The younger Winchester exclaimed.

"It's been tested, Samuel. We began implanting the system in small towns, those most biggoted and dangerous, like Lawrence, in Kansas. The results have been very promissing, so far." She said.

"Lawrence is almost a fucking ghost-town, now, because of you." Dean snarled. "Those people were good! And you fucking killed or imprisonned them all!"

"Not all. The few who remain are ideal subjects for the utopic societey we have strived to achieve for the past century and a half."

"You're fucking crazy." Castiel said quietly.

"Excsue me?" Hess raised he sharp eyebrows, her mouth a disaproving frown.

"I said 'you're fucking crazy', bitch!" He yelled and pointed his gun – the real one – at her head. "You-you killed my wife, and _harvested_ my daughter's brain!" he spat.

"Guards!" She yelled. The first real hint of emotion was found in her eyes: fear.

Dean snapped his cuffs off and they fell on the table with a clatter. Heavy fists pounded on the door to the cell. The woman made a move to retrive something from her pocket, but the feeling of Sam's weapon against her head made her freeze for some reason. She put heer hands flat back on the table.

"Now," Dean said and poped the joints of his shoulders and back as he stood up. "We're going to play a little game called 'we ask; you tell the truth'."

"You'll never leave this room alive." She spat.

"And the only way you're leaving this one is dead." Castiel hissed.

"I'll never tell you anything."

"You have two hundred and six bone in your body." Sam said, pushing the end of his gun a little harder against her skull. "How many you think can break before you die?"

Doctor Hess remained silent, seething in her seat.

"That's the spirit!" Dean smiled. Then, he grew serious. "Now, tell me: the people you captured when you stormed my base a couple months back; where are they?"

"Solitary confinement, for the most part. A few of them had to be put down, though." She said spitefully.

"Next question: where is this Unity kept?"

"Basement, level three."

"Good! You're a pretty decent player, Doctore Hess." Dean flashed her a grin. "Last question: where's the room you suck the brains out of people?"

"Basement, level two."

"Thank you for your cooperation. That'll be all." He picked up Castiel's licensed weapon and pressed a few buttons before aiming at her, effectivel activating the user-free mode Charlie had modified.

"Wait." The raven said. "Hannah Johnson. Where is she?"

She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "At this time, she's on the exctraction table. You'll never get there in time, Castiel." She practically sang.

Castiel pulled the trigger and shot her square in the forehead.

Sam jumped back, blood spaterring his clothes from, pieces of bone and brain catching in his hair and painting the white wall behind him crimson. He looked to the raven. He was still staring at Hess, an expression of rage he had never seen on the man before. He slowly lowered his gun, breathing heavyly. Then he blinked twice in rapid succession, sparing a quick glance to the brothers.

"Ash." He said.

" _Uuh, yes?_ " they heard his voice in their earpiece.

"Open the door."

" _But Cas, Lucifer isn't done with the guards yet._ "

Dean looked at Cas. "Open the door, Ash."

Silence. Then: " _yes, sir._ "

The door clicked and hissed open slowly. They waited, weapons at the ready. In the corridor, there was a scene similar to the one inside the cell. Walls were splattered artfully with blood, the guards and soldiers that had accompanied them up and those who had followed when the comotion had started lay in various states of death; some had their thorats ripped open, others were shot so full of bullets, it was like they were target practice for a machine gunner. Other yet had their eyes gouged out and their guts hanging form their stomachs.

Down the hall, to their right, there were still the sounds of fighting. Lucifer was front and center, a kind of sword in his hand, happily slashing away at the guards that seemed to endlessly flow from the elevator. He slew yet another guard and briefly turned to the emerging group with a blood-painted smile.

"Hey there! You might wanna take the other staircase, since I'm kinda busy here." He slashed at a soldier's arm, effectively removing it from his body. The man screemed in agony.

"Right! Thanks Luci!" Sam waved and went down the corridor in the opposite direction.

"Any time, Sammy!" he called back, and the younger brother had the distinc impression he actually meant it.

Dean looked at him, his face pale. "That guy was a Hellhound?"

"Yep." He answered.

"And his name is _Lucifer_?"

"Yes." Castiel said.

"Pretty accurate name and title." He gave an impressed nod.

As they moved closeer to the stairs, it seemed the other guards had caught on. They flooded the corridor before them, yet were no match for the trio. Though they were less enthusiastic about killing them than Lucifer, they made it through the palce and down the stairs to the level below.

" _Get to the elevator on this level._ " Ash said. " _I'll clear the way down for you to B-2._ "

"Copy that." Dean said. "Get Garth's team to clear out solitary confinement, and send Crowley and Rowena down to B-3 with the fire power."

" _Got it._ "

They cleared the floor tactifully, making it the elevator nearly unscathed. Dean only suffered for a hard left hook that made his nose bleed, and they pushed on. The ride down was excrutatingly slow, despite Ash's best efforts to expedite them as fats as was possible. In the corner, Castiel still appeared as a ghost, but his hands were no longer shaking.

"We'll get her out of here." Sam said, willing his voice to be reassuring despite the adrenaline pumping through him.

"I know." The raven answered, his own voice like stone.

At long last, the car came to a halt , and the doors opened with the usual _ding!_ that accompanied them. It was almost funny to Sam. Almost. The basement floor was considerable darker than the top ones, lights only where was strictly necessary. It was gloomy and ominous. The violence hadn't yet spread here.

"Way to put us in the mood." Dean muttered as they stepped out.

They walked down the corridor, reading the plaques that identified each room. _Research and Development, Laboratory 6, Chemical testing, Live Storage_ – Sam shuddered – _Exctraction_.

They halted in front of this one. A quiet word to Ash got him to open the door, and the trio entered stealthily. In the first part of the block, there were scattered scientific instruments that would make one panic and shriek. It was the stuff of horror movies made real: bloody scalpels, pointy drills, stretching devices to hold the subject's eyes open, bonesaws and laser drills. Sam looked on with horror as they cleared the place. Suddenly, solitary didn't seem so bad.

They reached the second door. It was locked, and this time Ash had a bit of trouble opening it. It was finally with Charlie's help that it clicked quietly and opened a fraction. Dean pushed it the rest of the way to reveal a room lit by a bright surgical lamp in the center, just over the body of an unconsious woman. There was a man, next to her, dressed in white scrubs, that looked up calmly at their entrance.

"Alister?" Dean said, bewildered. "You were dead last time we say you."

"Seems to be that a lot of people are supposed to be dead around you guys." The man grinned.

"But you were-"

Castiel fired a shot at Alister's head.

"-shot in the… head." He finished lamely.

Both brothers spinned around to the raven.

"What?" he growled. "You talk too much."

"Alright, then!" Dean sassed.

They retrieved Hannah, unconcious and exited the room. Outside, Alister stood, a hand over the bullet hole in his skull. He wasn't bleeding.

"That hurt, boys." He groaned.

The group froze. "Sam, grab a bonesaw." Dean said.

"How are you still alive?" Castiel said from behind the elder Winchester while the younger slowly stepped back towards the the counters of medical equipment.

"I've had a few upgrades since you last saw me, Dean." He removed his hand and the wound was completely sealed, as though nothing had happened.

"That- that's not possible." He took a step to put himself directly in front of the raven and the woman.

"Have you ever seen a human nervous system stripped of its body?" the man asked. "It's quite facinating."

"I'm sure it is." Dean deadpanned with a tight smile.

"You need only transfer that system to another, stronger body, and immortality is in your hands." He cracked his knuckles as he advanced on the elder brother.

" _Our guys from solitary are out and fire team is in place._ " Charlie informed them. " _Awaiting your signal, guys._ "

"Hold on. We have a bit of catching up to do, right now."

Sam grabbed a saw and kept to the shadows as Alister padded to Dean and Castiel. "It seems they had use for me, the Angels. Even dead, they saw my worth."

"You betrayed us. You helped them."

"So did your brother." The man pointed out.

Sam crept around the room and tried not the cringe at his words. He slowly stepped behind the man, shot a look at Dean. _Distract him._

His brother took out his gun and aimed it at Alister. "Sam is different."

"How so?" he asked and took another step.

"He wasn't sucking peoples' minds out like a fucking monster."

"No, you're right." the man conceeded. "He helped find fresh brains for me."

"Stop."

Sam padded ever closer, saw in hand and finger ready on the power button.

"You know that doesn't work, boy."

"So you're still partly human?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Cool."

He shot him in the chest six times, just enough to give Sam the time to power on the bonesaw and effectively remove Alsiter's head from his shoulders. Dean went to the counters and came back with what he used as a club and bashed the head to a disgusting pulp that was unnaturally white, since he apparently he didn't have blood in his veins, but the same syntheic oil used for automated units.

"Come back from that, bitch." His brother huffed and threw the club away to clatter against the floor.

Sam went to drop his saw, but thought better of it. If they encountered resitance on their way out it could be useful. "Are you okay, man?" Concern tinted his voice.

Dean looked at him, sythetic oil coating his hands and pants, along with a few drops on his face. "Just peachy." He said, seeming anything but fine. "Let's get the fuck outta here and clow this fucker up."

"I agree with Dean." Castiel said as he readjusted Hannah in his arms.

"Won't argue with you there." Sam nodded.

The way back to the eleavator was conserably more difficult. Guards were swarming the hall, searching the rooms to find them. Once they saw the group, it turned to utter chaos. Sam and Dean went ahead to hack and slash at the foremost ones, while Castiel occasinally squeezed a shot in where he could without shooting the Winchesters in the process.

At last they entered the cart, soaked to the bone in blood, so much they dripped form it. Sam sagged against the wall and Castiel gently placed Hannah down on the floor. Dean talked to Ash as the doors clicked shut.

"Beam us up, Scotty."

" _I taught you well, Kirk._ " Charlie replied happily instead of Ash.

"Yeah, yeah, Commander Geek." Dean rolled his eyes. "Just get us the fuck outta here."

They ascended the few floors they had to go before the elevator opened back onto the loby. The same bloodbath that had been going on on the othr floors had happened here as well, if the army of dead soldiers and the pools of blood dpreading on the once immacualte white floors were antyhing to go by.

"Chalie, Ash." Dean said as they hurried out of the building. "Where's the portal set up?"

The redhead gave them the coordinates and they hurried into the alleys, under the cover of the snipers set up on the surrounding buildings. The police had had at least enough sense to evacuate the surrounding seven miles, so Sam didn't feel too bad that they were about to blow up the place. Around the corner, there was the tell-tale green glow of the portal, where Charlie was waiting for them. She geeted them shortly and continued monitering the retreat of the snippers. Castiel went into the swirling door with Hannah and came back without her. The rest of their men were quickly retreating back to Russia, where they ahd set up temporay base for the duration of the operation.

Once they were assured that everyone was out, Dean have the signal. Charlie nodded and pressed a single button on her holographic interface. Sam saw the count down with the numbers reversed.

 _10… 9… 8…_

There were shouts of panic near Headquarters.

 _7… 6… 5…_

In the distance, police bots shouted for every human to evacuate the surounding area, an order that was easily obeyed by most of the remaining fores.

 _4… 3... 2.. 1…_

A dull thud was heard, and it resonated in the found beneath them. They stayed until they saw fire shooting high into the sky, windows shattering and shrapnel scattering. The group then stepped into the portal, just as the shockwave was visible in their alley. Anna Milton was running to them, and got thrown to the fround with the blast.

The portal collapsed closed behind them.

 **Boom! Big reveal! It was Crowley and Rowena that jumped off the building with them last chapter – in case you didn't catch that. And yes. Portral gun. Because sci-fi. And convenience. What happens to the world after this? Make an educated guess.**

 **-Miri.**


	6. Stars

**Hello.**

 **Here be the sixth story, albeit a few days late. But, compared to the other ones, this one is a couple hundred words longer and was difficult difficult lemon difficult to write, for some fucking reason. But hey, it be done now.**

 **Theme: Stars. Have you ever tried to find Pegasus before? What I described in here was a milder and abridged version of what trouble I actually went through to find the stupid constellation. With a shit fucking camera on top of it. It was all so** _ **fun**_ **. I swear. I still haven't gotten all the mud off my shoes yet.**

 **Speaking of! Warnings: Swearing, excessive blood, multiple character deaths… That about covers it. Also, Amelia in this story isn't any of the Amelia's in the actual show. Just so you know.**

 **Now, read on, mes chers.**

All Nightmare Long

" _Dean, I need your help."_

"With what?"

" _For stars."_

"Stars."

" _Yes."_

"Why would you ask me for help with stars, Cas?"

" _Because you live in the countryside, where there isn't as much light pollutionas in the city."_

"Still don't see where I come into this."

" _I need to come over tonight to take a picture of a constellation."_

"Why?"

" _A school assignment."_

"Fine."

" _Great. I'll be there at eight tonight."_

"Seeya, Cas."

" _Bye, Dean."_

Dean huffed as the line clicked on the other end. Sometimes he wondered how it was that he had ever found himself the raven's friend to begin with. He was hardly a socially skilled person back then, and that hadn't improved in the five years they had known each other, as he was now reminded of.

His phone rang again, and he answered without even having to look at who it was.

"Yes, I'll be there in half an hour to get you, Cas."

"… _Thank you, Dean."_

And they hung up again. The blond sighed andheaved himself out of the comfort of his bed to get his boots and jacket on. He grabbed his keys and went out to where his baby car was parked in the yard. He slid behind the wheel easily and smiled warmly when the engine roared to life. The Impala had been given to him by his father as a graduation present three years ago, on the promise that he treat the car with the utmost care. So far, Dean had been doing a pretty decent job of it, if he did say so himself.

Dean pulled out of the drive way, wheels kicking up gravel from the road in a way that he knew made his mother cringe. He sped down the short unpaved road, music already blasting and the windows down, and veered onto one of the main roads that led into Lawrence. As promised, he got to Castiel's apartment in little less than half an hour. He glanced at the time on his phone as he sent a quick text to his friend that he was waiting in the parking lot. He leaned against the driver's door and lit up a cigarette as he waited.

"You know those will kill you, right?" Castiel said from his right in his uniquely rough voice.

Dean turned and took an appreciative look of the raven as he blew out smoke. He was dressed in the dark jeans that clung just right to his hips, ripped at the knees from years of use. He had on a loose black T-shirt under his ever-present beige trench coat, hair artfully tussled – 'artfully' meaning that he just didn't touch it since getting out of bed – that fell over his eyes a little, but not quite hiding their bright azure depths. Dean wanted nothing more than to run his hands through it, to feel the scratch of his stubble against his lips as he-

He cut his train of thought short. Instead, the blond plucked the stick from his lips and replied sassily, "You're just as bad as me."

He snatched it from Dean's fingers and took a pull. "Not true."

Dean smirked and left it to him as they got in the car and drove back to his house. The sun was just setting behind the distant treeline when they pulled in. Mary and Sam had left not long ago for his little brother's parent-teacher conference at his school, and his father was out at the bar until way later, so the blond was in no hurry to butch his smoke while Castiel gathered his bag and books. They walked to the door slowly sharing the cigarette, until it was done and Dean flicked it far into the bushes where he knew his mother never went when taking care of the yard and entered the house.

The pair went to the kitchen table and Castiel set up his laptop and camera, as well as adjusted his star wheel to the right position. Dean plopped down across him, fiddling idly with the plastic contraption. Castiel sent him a sideways glance from behind his screen.

"Do you know how to use that?" he asked, still clicking at stuff on his computer.

"Not a clue." He replied and spun the outermost ring.

The raven clicked one last thing and moved the device out of his way. He plucked the star wheel from Dean's hands and set about explaining how it worked to him. "The biggest ring we don't use. The second one is the date. Today we are October second, so I turn this until it's on the meridian. Next is the time…"

"Eight o' two." Dean supplied.

"Let's say eight. So same as the date, we put it in line with the meridian as well. Then, you see this circle that is paler than the rest? It contains all the stars we can see on October second, at eight o'clock." He looked up at Dean to make sure he was following.

The blond pointed to the kind of tab thing in the middle. "What's that for?"

"Not sure. Our teacher was a little vague on how to use that one." Castiel didn't seem perturbed in the least.

"And which constellation to have to find?"

"Pegasus."

"Like the horse with the wings?"

"Yes."

Dean leaned back in his chair, a light chuckle on his lips. "Man, they must've been smoking some good shit to see a fucking flying horse in the sky."

The raven frowned. "I don't believe marijuana was used when they named the constellation, Dean."

He snorted. "You sure? You weren't there."

"It was probably more with mushrooms or special brews." He smirked.

"Not as innocent as ya look, huh Cas?" Dean returned the grin wholeheartedly.

The grabbed the camera and the tripod, along with the star wheel and went outside in the field behind Dean's house. They set it up and then tried to find Pegasus in the sky. Thankfully, it was beautiful night for stargazing, but with so many stars out, it was difficult trying the find which on was theirs. The poured over their map and looked up so much Dean's neck was starting to get an ache.

"It's supposed to be right above Pisces." The raven said, frowning down at the plastic contraption in his hands. "And Pisces is supposed to be right… There." He pointed vaguely to the west above them.

Dean leaned over his shoulder to look at the map in the raven's hands, close enough to share heat, but not quite touching. He pointed to the square of Pegasus' body. "Look, those four make a big square just between the two fish. Can't be _that_ hard to spot a giant fucking square in the sky."

Castiel looked up along with Dean to stare at the sky once again. "Apparently it is." He frowned.

He straightened and pointed at the sky again. "Well, we know that the left fish is right there, at the end of that line," he drew a curve from the starting point of the constellation. "So the other fish is laying more to the right, meaning that Pegasus should be smack down in the middle between them."

"Yes, logically." He didn't sound convinced.

"Right." He squinted up at the stars far above.

For a long moment, both friends stared up, the noise of crickets and distant cars occasionally passing by the only sounds.

"Do you think it's because it's not dark enough out here?" Dean asked, still trying to find the stupid square.

"That may be… Is there somewhere darker we can go?" Castiel looked at him.

The blond returned the look, vacantly as he searched his memory of places where there was absolutely no light for miles. The something came up. "There's a place, a little while from here, by the river, where there really isn't anything around for miles."

"Is it dark?"

"Very." Dean said gravely, trying hard not to laugh at the faint expression of discomfort of his friend.

"… Ok. I'll go get my laptop and we can go." He busied himself picking up the school-rented equipment.

"What's wrong, Cas?" Dean prompted, even if he knew what was bothering the raven.

"It's very dark out."

"Yeah?"

"There are… animals around here that hunt at night." He was dancing around the subject.

"Yep." Dean drawled and popped the 'p' at the end.

Castiel twitched and turned sharply to the blond. "What is your problem?" he snapped.

"Me?" he feigned surprise. "Nothing. But _you_ , on the other hand…"

"Hey! It's perfectly rational to be a little nervous when in the middle of bloody nowhere after sundown!" he defended and made a move to walk past Dean. "It has been proven that fear is hereditary. In a lad, they exposed mice to the scent of cherry blossoms, and then shocked them. Those mice learned to fear the scent of cherry blossoms, as did the next generation, even if they hadn't been shocked immediately after like their predecessors had."

"Pretty sure there ain't any cherry blossoms around here, Cas." Dean replied, still with a mocking smirk.

"What I'm saying is that there is a reason that I am uncomfortable in dark places, particularly those surrounded with trees or plenty of cover for things that may be lurking around." He snapped at last as he yanked open the Impala's back door on the passenger side.

He slammed in closed and stood staring at Dean, irritated, a hand on his hip. Dean came around the car and slung an arm over his shoulder, guiding him to the house to get his computer. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he drawled. "I'll protect ya."

Castiel snorted, though some of the rigidity in his stance melted a little under his friend's touch. "I doubt that. If anything, you'd be killed first, and I'll wind up saving you."

Dean gasped. "I never knew that you thought so little of me, Cas! That hurts!" he removed his arm from around his shoulders as though he was insulted.

Castiel shut his computer and stuffed in in his bag before truing back to Dean. He looked like he was going to retort, but then clamped his jaw shut and his stance became rigid again, distant. Dean frowned at the sudden change in attitude. He knew the raven could be a little mercurial at times, but this was different.

"Look dude," Dean softened. "I'm only kidding. Nothing bad is gonna happen."

"I know." Was all he said and exited the house.

Dean gave a long sigh, utterly confused by his behavior, and followed him out to the Impala. The took off in the direction of the place Dean had in mind, music filling the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them in the car. The gravel road flowed beneath them as they drove, Castiel looking out the window, looking at the passing trees and fields, ready to be harvested soon. Dean occasionally stole glances at him, noting the sharp outline of his nose and jaw, the heavy set to his brow and the slight downward curve of his mouth as though he was thinking intensely.

"Are you okay, Cas?" Dean turned down the music and asked in a soft voice.

"I'm fine." He said without looking at him.

"No, you're not. I'm sorry about what I said earlier."

He glanced at the raven again, and found him looking at Dean with eyebrows in his hairline. "Dean Winchester, apologizing? What's the occasion?" He laid the sarcasm on heavily.

Dean pulled a bitchface. "Ha ha, jerk. But seriously, I am sorry."

"And I said I was fine," Castiel repeated.

"Are you?" Dean prodded.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

" _Yes._ " He ground out, trying not to return his friend's stupid grin.

"A hundred percent positive?"

The raven turned to him with a deadly serious intent. "I'm not only sure, Dean. I'm HIV positive."

Dean barked out and ugly laugh and Castiel followed suit. "I'm afraid I don't have a hundred and eighty thousand bucks to cure you, buddy."

They chatted on about stuff like they always do, Dean happy that he got the raven out his momentary shell of isolation and silence. After a while, Dean turned downa narrow dirt path and eventually into a field entrance, where no human civilization could be seen for miles. They climbed out of the car and grabbed the camera and tripod. They walked a little ways into the field, far enough that the power lines would not get in the shot, but close enough that they still had the car in sight, glinting like a dark diamond under the night sky. The river's gentle murmur joined itself to the orchestra of night life.

Castiel set up the camera and Dean fiddled with the star wheel, trying to remember his friend's explanations earlier. An arm snaked its way around him to grab the plastic guide and adjusted one of the wheels. It made Dean start a little, the sudden proximity of the raven.

"According to this, it should be just about… There." He pointed to the sky.

Dean followed his hand, searching for one of the two fish of Pisces. He could now find those easily, but the square of Pegasus was still another story. The sky was indeed darker here and he could see even more stars than he could in the field behind his house. But still, he couldn't pinpoint the constellation.

"Can you see it yet?" he asked, trying hard not to lean in to Castiel.

He let his arm drop. "No." he sighed, defeat heavy in his voice.

Dean turned around to face him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find it, Cas. Come on," he added, a wry smile playing on his lips. "If you're having trouble, imagine the rest of the idiots in your class."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "I still can't believe one of them actually asked if the stars were really linked together by physical lines."

"Neither can I." the blond laughed and went over to the camera.

After a few more minutes of staring at the sky like it was a puzzle, they finally made out the square of Pegasus. From there, they saw where the rest of the constellation spread out. Now was the problem of taking a picture of the accursed thing. They had nothing to guide their aim, so they just took a bunch of pictures of what they thought was about the right place. Once done and starting to get fed up, they picked up the equipment and went back over to the car. While Castiel took out his laptop, Dean sat down the hood and took out a cigarette.

The raven came back and plunked down beside his friend, unabashedly taking the smoke, puffing an giving it back. He opened up his computer.

"The nerve of you." Dean said and blew out a small white cloud that enveloped them, disgust on his features.

"Admit it: you like it." Castiel teased seriously without looking up from connecting the camera.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really."

Dean snorted beside him. Not that he would ever say otherwise, but he had to keep up appearances. He had reputation to maintain – kinda. Whatever.

The raven clicked on the first of the pictures. "Okay so… Here's Pisces," he gestured with the mouse in a vague V shape across two lines of stars. "So then… These four must be Pegasus, and then these and these must be the head and the legs, and this one is the tail!" he said victorious at last.

Dean looked over at the screen and flicked ash from the cigarette. He still couldn't see it, but he nodded along. "See? I told you you'd find it!"

Castiel looked at him, face flat, so long that it made the blond uncomfortable. "You still can't see it, can you?"

Dean was glad for the cover of the night when he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at being caught. "Uh, no. Not really."

Castiel sighed with amusement. "You don't ever listen to what I say, Dean."

"Not true!" he defended. "I know that your birthday is July tenth and that you like hamburgers with a passion. You like musical movies and hate hearing people chew." He listed.

"I just can't fucking stand it." He shuddered.

"I know that you lip sing to every song in the South Park movie, even when you think I'm not looking."

"I do not!" he recoiled, guilty insult on his features.

"Yes, you do, Cas."

"Yeah well… You know every damn line of every Doctor Sexy episode!" he fired back.

"It's a good show!" Dean snapped. "Besides, you're just as bad with Doctor Who! Particularity with the Tenth Doctor."

"I like David Tennant!"

"So much you watched Casanova. And that thing sucked." Dean chuckled.

"It did not! One would think you'd be able to relate to him." He crossed his arms over his chest, a smug smirk on his lips.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Dean narrowed his eyes at the raven.

"Just that you've been through half of the girls in our senior ."

"Just 'cause I couldn't have the one I wanted." He mumbled under his breath.

Castiel narrowed his eyes in turn. He had caught that. "And who was it that you so lusted after but couldn't have?"

Dean took a breath, his heart suddenly beating fast in his chest. "You remember that night you got really drunk at Jo's birthday?"

His face morphed into a frown. "Yeah?"

"Well, what do you remember about that night?" the blond asked, looking out into the night towards the river.

He huffed and gazed blankly down at his screen. "Not much, to be honest. The tequila was pretty good. I think I danced? But I don't remember with who."

"You danced with me."

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"So?"

"You told me you'd thought of…" Dean swallowed. It was usually easy for him to say vulgar shit, but when it came to Castiel, it seemed that he suddenly grew a conscience. "You thought of fucking me, a few times."

The silence that fell between them was almost palpable it was so thick. The sound of the crickets was near deafening. Dean clenched his hands into tight fists on his knees, waiting for Castiel to say or do anything. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest and his mind was racing so fast he couldn't focus on a single thought at a time. He felt panic rising within him. Why did he bring this up? Why couldn't he just learn to fucking shut up sometimes? Why did he always have to fuck up everything all the time? He did it with school, he did it with Lisa, he did it with his dad, and that was still a damn touchy subject, even years after the fact. Shit. And now he'd done it with Cas. Why-

He jumped when he heard the raven snap his laptop shut and hop off the Impala's hood. He went to the back, threw his computer in along with the camera and tripod. He slammed the door shut and climbed into the passenger's side. Dean remained seated on the car, gazing vacantly at his lap.

"Can you at least take me home?" Castiel's gruff voice brought him back to reality.

He looked back through the windshield at the raven, a hard set to his face that decidedly did not fit him well. "What?" he said stupidly.

"You don't want to be around me right now, I get it." His tone was hard. "Can you at least take me home? Or would you rather I call a cab?"

The blond jumped off the hood, his legs unsteady beneath him. He collapsed in the driver's seat, but made no move to take out the keys. The raven huffed impatiently in the seat beside him before reaching for the door handle.

"Why wouldn't I want to be around you?" he finally asked.

Castiel froze. "Because of what I said.

"So?"

"'So'? I told you I wanted to fuck you, Dean." The words sounded harsh in his mouth. Not at all alike the first time he said them. "You should hate me for even thinking it in the first place."

"I don't."

"Bullshit." He spat and yanked the door open.

Dean grabbed the sleeve of his coat. "I don't he repeated and looked into Castiel's eyes. His mind was struggling to find something to add, anything to keep him from leaving. The fact that he would rather go out into the dark than spend another second with Dean was truly wounding. "If I didn't want you around me, I wouldn't have stuck around so long. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I didn't you thinking about me like that?" he paused and steeled his nerves. "That maybe I… I thought about you too?"

Castiel was breathing heavily, rigid under Dean's touch. His blue eyes flick from Dean's let to his right, down to his lips and to his hand still on his arm. He looked back up to his eyes and stared intently, face carefully blank. He still didn't believe him.

"It's true, Cas. The one you said I 'lusted after but couldn't have' – that's you."

"No."

"Yes."

"It can't be." He still refused.

"Stop saying that. I mean it."

"But it can't, Dean!" he finally shouted.

"Why not?!" He returned, equally as loud.

"Because!"

"Because what?!"

"Because God is dead and miracles don't fucking happen!"

Dean pulled him in close and smashed their lips together. It shocked Castiel still, and Dean took advantage of the split second to wrap him up in his arms so he couldn't get away even if he tried. Once the shock passed, though, he pulled back roughly and stared the blond down. He looked like he was fighting a losing battle against tears, if the watery glaze in their blue depths were anything to go by.

"Why?"

"Because I-" Dean faltered. "I love you, Cas."

He snorted. "Since when?" It was meant as sarcasm, but it flew over Dean's head.

"About three years, I think."

"Hilarious."He didn't laugh.

"I mean it."

And he proved his point by pressing his mouth to Castiel's once more. He lifted one hand to his jaw, the rough stubble tickling the pads of his fingers. The raven took a shuddering breath and twitched his lips against Dean's, which only encouraged his desire to prove to him that he did love him. He relaxed and leaned into the blond, giving in to the kiss.

After having gotten over each other, they got busy, and Dean had never been more thankful for the long seats of the Impala. He leaned Castiel back and climbed on top of him, one leg between his. It was messy, frantic, all teeth and tongue, but it was perfect. Dean carded his hands through his hair, reveled at its softness. Castiel responded perfectly to him, eager and near desperate, like he needed to be reassured that it was real, that this was really happening, and Dean felt his heart ache for the raven. He should have told him sooner, how he felt.

Instead, he showed him now, in the way he caressed his jaw, in the way he nipped at his lips and trailed kisses down his neck, eliciting small gasps from the raven beneath him. Fine fingers wound their way into his shorter hair and tugged lightly, which added fuel to Dean's fire that was already blazing pretty hot.

Then Castiel pushed him away, both hands on his chest, and Dean couldn't help the sting of rejection that spiked through him. But it quickly passed when he saw the raven looking up at him, breathless, but worried.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"Listen!" the raven hissed.

Both stood absolutely still, even held their breath, and they listened. The sound of night life was all they heard, along with the quiet hum of the nearby river, but nothing perturbed the otherwise silent night. Just as the blond was about to roll his eyes at Castiel, who was once again imagining things that weren't there, he heard a loud splash of water and a cry that broke the peace.

Dean scrambled back from the raven and the pair ran out to the river with the light of their phones. The blond twisted an ankle in the process and almost fell flat on his face, saved at the expense of feeling like he broke his arm, but kept going despite the sharp pain that shot through his leg every time his foot hit the ground. Castiel burst through the small thicket of trees on the river's edge first, followed shortly by Dean. He stopped to catch his breath and hobbled on one foot, letting the injured one rest while they tried to locate the source of the cry.

A little ways to east, there was another splash, this time accompanied by a garbled yell. They pointed their lights in that direction, and sure enough, they saw small arms flailing in the deeper part of the river. Castiel took off without regards for Dean, who painfully limped along as fast as he could.

"Cas!" he shouted. "Cas, wait! Fuck!" he swore as he nearly fell again because of an unearthed root.

"We have to get him out!" Castiel called from the riverbank, where the recent lack of rain had left large expanses of sand that led fairly far into the river, but at the center, where the kid was struggling, it was still very deep.

"Cas, don't!" he hurried over to where the raven was standing and griped him with a heavy hand.

"He's drowning, Dean!" the raven hurriedly kicked off his shoes and dropped his phone in the sand, blinding Dean a second as it fell.

"I'll go-"

"Your ankle is hurt and you probably fractured your arm." He cut off. "Just stay here and keep the light on us."

He gave no time for the blond to protest before running into the water. Thankfully, the current wasn't too strong, so the child was a relatively stationary objective, but that didn't stop Dean's stomach from clenching with nerves as he felt useless on the riverbank, just illuminating the raven's path to the kid. As he swam ever farther into the dark waters, all the things that could be lurking beneath the surface came to mind. Suddenly he understood Castiel's fear of the dark.

He was close now, to the kid, almost within arm's reach, and then he went under. Castiel wasted no time in plunging under, thus disappearing from Dean's view. His heart stopped. For long minutes, he waited on the river's edge, the light trembling in his hands, and it was actually painful to hear the crickets and the frogs sing on without a care that two people were potentially dead.

"Cas?" he called out, even though he knew it was useless. He couldn't possibly hear him under the water. "Castiel?" he tried again.

"That's a lovely name." A soft voice said from his right.

Dean whirled around to see a young woman with soft features and brown hair drawn into a ponytail over her shoulder standing beside him, staring out over the river with a small, sad smile. She was dressed in old clothes, like those he'd seen in history books at school during the colonial times, tattered and the hem of the dress soaked like she had wadded knee-deep in the water. She clutched her hands together over her chest.

"Who are?"

"My name is Amelia." She replied just as quietly.

"My friend Cas, he went in to save a kid from drowning."

"That would be my son, Thomas."

"What the fuck is your son doing out here in the middle of the night?!" he rose his voice to a panicked pitch.

"He is a very lonely boy. He was looking for a friend." Amelia smiled at him sadly. "I've brought him many before, but… They never quite got along."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Dean felt the cold fingers of dread wrap themselves around the base of his spine.

"Your friend, Castiel… He is a nice boy. I think Thomas will like him." She returned her gaze to where the raven still hadn't resurfaced.

Realization hit him like a sledgehammer. "No…" he breathed. He ran into the water and his ankle protested with every step he wadded further into the chilling water. "No! You can't do this!" He shouted without looking at the spectral woman. "Cas! Castiel!"

He got about waist deep and then he awkardy swam to where he'd seen them go under. His arm hurt like a bitch, but he pushed through the pain, desperate to find him. He had never had a chance to use his phone like this before, and he was now immensely grateful that it was water resistant. He shined the light down and around the place, though the water seemed only to drink in the light hungrily, the bottom apapprently a longer way down than was reality. It seemed endless, and made Dean's stomach pitch.

"He won't like you." The woman called from the shore, her voice unnaturally loud for the distance.

"And I don't like him." The blond spat back venmously with one last glare at Amelia.

And he dove down into the abyss.

X

Dean woke with a spluttering gasp, bolting straight up in his bed. He was covered in sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs and threatning to strangle him. He yanked them away, taking in deep gulps of air as he tried to calm his thundering heart. His hand instinctively went to his injured arm and rubbed. No pain. He moved his bad ankle. Nothing.

A dream. It was all just a dream.

He looked to Castiel's sleeping form beside him, curled in the blankets facing away from Dean. He took a deep breath, counted to three, and let it out. Inhale, count to four, exhale. Count to five. He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face before he lay back down and curled up against the raven. Dean wraped an arm around his chest and found his hand to twine their fingers together.

He froze.

Water.

There was water eveywhere. Castiel was soaking wet. Dean recoiled violently, and the motion sent the raven rolling back towards him on his back. His face was pale, his lips blue and trickling water, hair a dark mess plastered to his head and sticking out at odd angles on the pillows, blue eyes open but so, so hauntingly empty. Dean shireked in horror and fell out of the bed, knocking his head painfully on the wall behind.

"I said he wouldn't like you, Dean…" Amelia's voice flitted across the room to his ears in a chilling tone.

"W-what?" He somehow managed to stutter. He could still see the outline of Castiel's body on the bad above him. Dean wanted to throw up.

"My Thomas was always a picky one. He treasures the ones who love him, but the ones he doesn't… Well, you can see what happens."

She chuckled, sorrow tainting the musical sound.

X

"Dean! Wake up!" Hands shook him roughly. "Damn it, Dean! Wake the fuck up, will you?!"

A harsh slap to the face did it. "Ow! Fuck!" he sputtered and brought a hand to his stinging cheek.

"Finaly!" Castiel exclaimed and heaved a sigh as he fell back on his heels.

They were back in the Impala, laying across the front seat. Dean looked at the raven. He was alive. He was safe. He was dry. The sun was rising behind him, casting the raven with a halo of golden light. If there was ever a time Dean saw an angel, it was definetly now.

He flung himself at him to envelop his thinner frame in his arms. "Oh, thank fuck." He breathed against his neck, fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his head.

"Dean," Castiel tried, tapping his shoulder gently. "I can't breathe." He wheezed theatrically.

"Sorry," he mumbled and eased up. "I just had a couple really bad dreams, dude, you wouldn't believe."

"Ha, I hear you. I just woke up from a really-"

A lound shot was heard, like a gun, and warmth splattered Dean's front. When he opened his eyes, he saw the seeping blood from the multiple holes his Castiel's chest, his shirt torn to shreds, an expression of utter shock on his face. He looked down, then back up at Dean, who could only scramble away from him into the passenger side fo the car, his knees to his chest.

"Dean-"

Blood dribbled down his chin, staining his lips red. He reached a hand towards him, his breath wheezing and laborious. If possible, the blond backed even farther away, horror stopping his heart and twisting is stomach like a knife. Castiel fell face-first into the seat, crimson liquid pooling on the beige leather and revealing the ugly hole in his back. He jerked a few times, fighting to cling to life even as it fought to flee him. At last, he stilled.

Dean did not move. He could only stare at the lifeless body of his friend, sprawled inelegantly across the driver's seat. He didn't know how much time passed that he stayed there as shock numbed his mind, the sun rose above the horizon, glinting in the red pools spreading from the wounds. He felt blood dry on his skin, caking his lashes and making it difficult to see.

"I told you, Dean." A gentle voice flitted to him.

He didn't even blink as he responded vacantly. "Fuck off."

"It's never going to end." She said, and then stepped to enter the Impala. She sat on the back seat and gazed at him sadly. "Once he has you, there is no escaping. Your own personal Hell, I've heard some call it."

Dean could only breathe.

 **Yep, that's that. Ghosts, man. Real fuckers when you don't know how to take care of 'em. Anyway, happy season 13 tomorrow night! I've been stressing for like two months, because my Angel of Floof went and done gooffed in season 12, and left me on such a fucking cliff I wanted to throw myself down it. But now, we get answers at last!**

 **-Miri.**


End file.
